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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29235762">Happy Little Trees</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaudeZbornak/pseuds/MaudeZbornak'>MaudeZbornak</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Artist Ben Solo, Background GingerRose, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Bob Ross Inspired, Body Paint, But it doesn't happen, F/M, Massage, Oral Sex, Pegging, Romance, Sex, Sex massage, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Rey/Ben Solo, body painting, teased love triangle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:35:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>45,141</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29235762</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaudeZbornak/pseuds/MaudeZbornak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rey finds hidden treasure at an estate sale -- a seascape painting that could be the work of the late Leia Organa, whose classic public television series on painting helps her unwind after a day’s work. When Leia’s son comes to town to appraise artwork for the public TV network’s antique show, she seeks to confirm the painting’s authenticity. She’s also surprised to discover the awkward boy making the occasional guest turn on his mother’s show is now very tall, very handsome, and very single. </p><p>Ben Solo never thought he’d see this particular seascape again. It holds as much sentimental value as it does actual worth, and he wants it for the museum he wants to establish. But his mother’s estate is in financial straits and he’s lucky to hold onto what he already has. </p><p>When Ben receives a proposal to help clear all debts and move his dream forward, he’s confident he can convince Rey to sell or at least loan the work. She’s reluctant to sell, however, but open to a possible barter -- private painting lessons, maybe more. Ben is more than willing, but his benefactor also has strings attached...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chewbacca/Maz Kanata, Rey &amp; Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Ijustfellintothissendhelp</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story features:</p><p>Bob Ross-inspired AU<br/>Leia is Bob Ross<br/>Leia appears in archival footage<br/>Sexy alternative uses for paint<br/>There's an attempted love triangle<br/>But this is Reylo and ends Reylo<br/>CWs/tag updates to come as I write</p><p>While you're waiting for new chapters, please have a look at my other AU Reylos:</p><p><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890961">In Focus</a> - rom/com (Photographer Rey/Son of Presidential Candidate Ben)<br/><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28745784">Entwined</a> - dramatic slow burn (Innkeeper Rey/Winemaker Ben)<br/><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609379">Time Has Come Today</a> - time travel (Museum Curator Rey/Activist Ben)</p><p>Thank you for being a friend.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rey Skyler pointed at the TV. “Did you see that?” she asked her roommate.</p><p>Rose Tico was crushing candy on her phone, seemingly content to listen in on this edition of <em>Painting Joy with Leia</em> rather than watch. “Rey, I lost the thread on this show already,” she said. “You look away for two seconds and the woman’s done painted an entire lavender field.”</p><p>“I meant the scroll on the bottom.”</p><p>Rose looked up from her game. Onscreen, Leia Organa was demonstrating the composition of a rustic cabin in the foreground of a snow-capped mountain range. Amazing how, in the space of half an hour, the woman could transform a blank canvas into a peaceful nature scene, lush with trees and babbling brooks. Rey watched reruns of this show on public television daily, the perfect tonic for unwinding after work.</p><p>But now, she was more concerned with the words crawling across the screen, underneath the easel. <em>Have treasure to appraise? Apply to be a special guest when Antique Appraisals comes to town!</em> Following that was a URL to visit.</p><p>“What do you have that’s worth appraising?” Rose asked. “We’re broke. It’s why we live together.”</p><p>Rey hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “What do <em>you</em> think?”</p><p>Rose let her gaze drift upward to the oil painting on the wall over the sofa. “What, that?” Rose blew out a noise of derision. “I keep telling you, Rey, it’s a fake.”</p><p>“You don’t know that.” Rey launched herself from the sofa and turned to better inspect the artwork. The oil painting depicted a seascape against a violet and pink sky, with a flock of birds flying toward a grand sunrise. To the left, a brick lighthouse stretched the length of the canvas, and to the far right a small couple walked along the beach.</p><p>The style of the painting was similar to that of the naturescapes Leia Organa created on her show. <em>Painting Joy With Leia</em> was a public television classic, having aired originally nearly two decades ago. Though Leia had sadly passed on five years ago, her show remained a cult favorite, and Rey had seen nearly every episode at least once.</p><p>Hence, Rose’s insistence that the painting was likely a product of another Organa fan inspired to copy her style. Plus, Rey had never seen this particular seascape produced on the show. To be certain, she looked for it.</p><p>“But it’s signed,” Rey insisted, as she had before. She pointed to the red paint signature in the right corner. Leia always signed with her initials in her distinct, edged handwriting. Besides, she had to have painted works that weren’t subjects of her show, right?</p><p>Rose completed a level on her game and closed the app. “You know, Rey, if you want to make an ass of yourself on PBS, you go right ahead. Let an actual art expert tell you it’s fake and not worth the five bucks you paid for it. I’m clearly wasting my breath.”</p><p>Rey said nothing, but called up the URL on her phone and began filling out the questionnaire. She didn’t want to reveal it to Rose, but she was skeptical herself about getting a slot on <em>Antique Appraisals</em> anyway. They tended to look for ancient artifacts and sculptures, furniture hand-carved by Revolutionaries and letters written by President Lincoln. Leia Organa was in the zeitgeist, but not quite the level of Frida Kahlo or Mary Cassatt in terms of art legend.</p><p><em>But, as a wise man once said</em>, she thought to herself, <em>you miss every shot you don’t take</em>.</p><p>Rey hit send and settled in with Rose to watch handsome rakes in Regency dress on <em>Masterpiece.</em></p><p>***</p><p>She didn’t expect to receive a response so quickly. The antique show wasn’t coming to the local coliseum for another two weeks.</p><p>The text came on a Friday, her day off, as she was eating breakfast. Poe Dameron, who would be producing the segments on behalf of the local station, asked if she could text a photo of the painting in question.</p><p>Two minutes after she sent it, he wanted to set up a quick call.</p><p>“I appreciate you talking with me so early today,” he began. “I’ve been going through applications all week and yours stood out.”</p><p>Interesting. Rey waited to hear more.</p><p>“Would you mind telling me how you came upon your Leia Organa painting?”</p><p>Rey kept the story abbreviated, as she had a tendency sometimes to ramble. For the TL;DR, she explained that she spotted it at an estate sale held by the children of an elderly neighbor. “It was on the wall among an eclectic display of prints, but it was the only oil work. It had the look of one of Leia’s, and when I saw the signature I grabbed it,” she said.</p><p>That had been a few months ago, she still couldn’t believe her good fortune. The late woman’s children had seen no value in the small picture and quoted her five dollars just to get rid of it.</p><p>“That is quite a story,” Poe said. “Leia produced so much work in her lifetime, and you’d think paintings would be found in the wild everywhere. They rarely come up for sale, though, and when they do they go for way more than five dollars.”</p><p>She heard movement on the other end, like he was shuffling papers. “Ms. Skyler, you can guess the reason I am calling. If you believe you may have an original Leia Organa in your possession, I’d love to feature it and you in one of the spotlight appraisals.”</p><p>“Of course.” She’d planned to attend the show anyway. She and Rose had their tickets, and Poe offered to comp them.</p><p>“You’ll get VIP passes for this event. We host all guests in a special green room and film all the appraisal segments at once. Then we edit and air them throughout the show. That way, you’ll have time to see everything.”</p><p>That made sense, so it wasn’t a live show.</p><p>“I will confess, too… there’s an ulterior motive for asking you,” Poe said, then gave a short laugh. “We have been trying to get Ben Solo himself to come down for this event.”</p><p>“Really?” Leia’s son had appeared on her show a few times as a guest artist. Stick thin and adorbs in his smock, taking patient direction from his mother while he painted happy little trees. These being old episodes she watched, she only saw the awkward teenager. Still, to be able to meet the son, one degree of separation from her idol…</p><p>“Ben is a friend, and an expert art appraiser,” Poe said. “If I thought I had an original painting of his mother’s, that would close the deal. Rey, can we count on you to show?”</p><p>“Definitely.” Giddiness took over, and Rey walked about the apartment with a spring in her step, listening to Poe’s instructions on which entrance at the venue to use, what to wear for the camera, and where to check-in. Most importantly, bring the painting.</p><p>With nothing planned for the rest of the day, Rey fixed a sandwich and called up YouTube on her Roku. The Leia Organa Foundation had its own channel, but it didn’t offer the entire catalog, just selected episodes highlighting the variety of the series. Rey knew one of the episodes featured Ben Solo, and she played it as she ate.</p><p>Ben Solo, here around eighteen years of age, was flying solo -- so to speak. This particular episode aired late in the original run, when Leia ceded the easel to a number of guest hosts. Some were students, others fellow artists who injected their own style into Leia’s wet-on-wet technique. Rey watched Ben’s introduction, enraptured by his awkward charm. Here, he had the look of a shy high school senior, the one who always sat in the back row and kept his head over his books, loping out at the bell with hunched posture.</p><p>His hair stuck out, and so did his ears. He wore glasses and had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal pale but tight arms. No doubt his mother believed he was the handsomest boy alive.</p><p>Rey could also tell, as he explained the day’s painting and the colors that would be used, he wasn’t quite accustomed to speaking in this format. A keen eye would notice the slight tremble in his hand as he held the fan brush to create a tree. Nonetheless, he soldiered through the painting quoting one of Leia’s many maxims: <em>there are no mistakes, just happy accidents.</em> Among Ben’s happy accidents with this painting: a dead tree trunk that became a cabin, and a cloud with a bit more gray than needed. Still, it looked nice.</p><p>By the show’s end, he revealed a presentable mountain scene and thanked the viewers for their patience. Rey wondered about the whereabouts of that particular work. From what she’d read on Leia, the majority of her works were donated to public television stations around the country, and many were used as fundraisers for programming. She figured her neighbor must have purchased the one now on her wall as a means of supporting <em>Sesame Street,</em> or something.</p><p>Keyed up by the good news, Rey cleaned up after lunch and decided to go on a run. Two weeks seemed forever away, and she couldn’t wait to learn the true value of her prized artwork. Rose might believe her seascape wasn’t worth the cost of the paint, but Rey had a feeling she’d found treasure. Maybe Ben Solo could confirm it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“No.”</p><p>“Come <em>onnnnn</em>,” Poe cajoled.</p><p>Ben Solo had his friend on speaker while he sat at his desk, surrounded by bills. “I have a lot of work to do. I can’t just take off for a low-paying public TV gig.” Low, heh. Try pay your own travel expenses, and we’ll pay back in “exposure.”</p><p>“It’s one day of your life, it’s an hour drive, and you owe me a favor,” Poe said.</p><p>“It’s an hour and a half,” Ben said. “And tunnel traffic.”</p><p>“Do I have to remind you of how I put my own reputation on the line for you?”</p><p>“I wish you wouldn’t.” Yet the memory came unbidden to the surface of Ben’s mind. A mutual friend’s bachelor party. The stripper was more attentive to Ben than the groom. Poe finally doused her fire by sliding onto Ben’s lap and planting a big wet kiss on his lips, telling Stripperella to “back off, he’s mine.”</p><p>Ben said nothing about it. Poe cut in with, “Ben? It was four months before I got another date after I did that.”</p><p>“Really? It was two days for me. What’s your point?”</p><p>“Get your ass over here,” his friend shouted. “We have a potential Organa original. Don’t you want to look at it?”</p><p>“It’s probably fake,” Ben said, his voice glum. Sitting in his office at the Leia Organa Foundation, his mother’s work decorated every wall. Currently he had just over four hundred of the approximate twelve hundred works painted in her lifetime. What Ben didn’t have displayed here, he kept in storage until he was able to finalize a location for the museum.</p><p>Assuming he could afford to establish one. Assuming he wouldn’t be forced to auction off his mother’s entire legacy to pay off the debts. What work he secured in art appraisal was keeping the lights on at the moment. If nothing improved soon, the Leia Organa Foundation would soon be set up in his bedroom.</p><p>The last thing he wanted to do was fake a smile in front of a camera and break some poor little old lady’s heart.</p><p>“I have a photo the woman texted me,” Poe said. “At least look at it. You might recognize it.”</p><p>Ben so wanted this call to end. He loved his friend, but Poe had been riding him about <em>Antique Appraisals</em> for months. “Don’t bother,” he said. “People have been copying her works for years, and she encouraged it.” That was the whole point. “Even I won’t be able to tell from a text photo.”</p><p>“Good. So you’ll come down and see it in person.” After Ben’s heavy sigh, Poe added, “Look, if I can swing a stipend, will that change your mind? I’ll also buy dinner.”</p><p>“How much of a stipend?”</p><p>A pause, then, “Five hundred bucks?”</p><p>Ben suspected that money would come from Poe’s own pocket. He drummed his fingers on his desk, drawing out his decision. <em>Ben, you asshole, just say yes. You’re getting low on friends, the way your life is going.</em> “Five hundred. And I stay at your place.” It was humiliating to think he had to save as much money as possible, doing without a hotel room. He shouldn’t even take Poe’s money, out of principle, but five hundred bucks would cover the storage fee for another month.</p><p>“Ben, when I see you here in two weeks I am kissing you again. With tongue.”</p><p>“See you soon, loverboy.” He rang off and buried his head in his arms.</p><p>***</p><p>In his modest apartment, Ben changed into flannel pajama pants, poured himself a whiskey neat, and pressed play on the DVD he’d watched every night the past week. Of every distraction attempted to take his mind off finances, this seemed to be the only thing to guarantee a hint of happiness in his heart.</p><p>In the course of its original run, <em>Painting Joy With Leia</em> clocked in at exactly four hundred aired episodes. About two hundred more than <em>The Office</em>, fifty-six short of the first <em>Law &amp; Order</em> series, and nowhere close to <em>The Simpsons</em>. He appeared a total of nine times over the years, his late father six. He’d seen every episode at least three times, and every time somebody asked if he had a favorite he’d give a smile to be coy and answer, “It’s difficult to choose.”</p><p>That was a lie. It was the one he was watching now. The one episode that never aired.</p><p>One he hoped to show one day, in a Leia Organa museum celebrating her work.</p><p>His mother looked beautiful in her flowing blue smock, dressed with chunky turquoise jewelry around her neck and fingers. She held a large brush in one hand and a palette the size of a garbage can lid in the other. She greeted her audience with a smile and soft, deep voice, and reminded viewers of all the colors to be used in today’s project.</p><p>Phthalo Blue, Sap Green, Alizarin Crimson, Van Dyke Brown… Ben guessed he’d learned his colors before learning to count.</p><p>Leia spoke directly to the screen. “Today is a special program, because we have a special guest with us. Since we began <em>Painting Joy</em>, I’ve received so many wonderful letters from viewers, energized by the desire to create beautiful pictures. I’m flattered, too, that some of you consider me your favorite artist. I thank you,” she said, and bowed. “Now, though, I want you to meet my favorite artist: my son Benjamin.”</p><p>There he was. An eleven-year-old shorty in a horrible Beatles haircut. Braces. Glasses. Thank the gods for LASIK surgery and the relatively smooth puberty that gave him his height. He could laugh now, but he was on his way to getting drunk, so…</p><p>“Ben is here to prove a point: that painting is for everyone. It doesn’t matter if you’re eleven, like Ben, or a hundred and eleven, you can do it,” she said. “Ben and I have been practicing for his TV debut for weeks, and for today’s project we have decided upon a scene inspired by a place that evokes pleasant memories for our family.”</p><p>Blah blah blah. TV Ben took over the palette and brush and, with his mother behind to guide him, began with the sun. Comforted by her soothing tutelage, he put paint to the wet canvas and the scene took shape over the next twenty or so minutes.</p><p>“Ben, his father, and I love the beach,” Leia explained throughout the episode. “For the past few years, we’ve spent part of the summer in a place called Corolla. It’s in the northern part of the North Carolina Outer Banks and it’s quite secluded. There’s a lighthouse and miles of pristine beach. It doesn’t quite look like what we’re painting here; we’re taking the best features of the area and putting them together in a happy scene.”</p><p>Not quite all the features. Corolla was known for wild Mustangs that roamed the dunes. They had no owners and nobody could touch them. His mother had painted animals well, but never did on her show. At this time, Ben had a ways to go to mastering birds, much less those majestic horses.</p><p>The whiskey hit hard as he watched. It wasn’t working this time. The first tear slid down his nose and caught on his upper lip. He licked it away.</p><p>“Mom, I am so sorry,” he told the television. “I have made such a mess of things.”</p><p>His phone rang a screeching guitar solo and he checked the caller. Unreal. The woman had psychic powers. He paused the show. “Hey, Aunt Maz,” he answered. Honorary aunt, that was. Maz had been his mother’s assistant, and lived under the impression she was also Ben’s.</p><p>“Stop crying, Benjamin.”</p><p>He didn’t bother asking how she knew. At least she used her powers for good. “Okay.”</p><p>“I have news, which hopefully will lighten your mood,” she said. “It so happens that I made the acquaintance of one Phasma Scyre. Perhaps you’ve heard of her.”</p><p><em>Big deal.</em> Ben never pegged Maz for a star collector. So she met some snooty movie star. “She sounds familiar,” he said.</p><p>“She wants to meet you.”</p><p>“She has art to be appraised?” Or, more likely, she was looking to buy. It wouldn’t be the first time a celebrity hired Ben to determine the value of a spontaneous art investment.</p><p>Maz’s voice took on an arched tone. “Actually, she is interested in optioning the rights to your mother’s story for a film and wants full cooperation from the estate.”</p><p>“Are you kidding?” What story? Everything anybody needed to know about Leia Organa was encapsulated in her show, and public television was free. What could a movie do, but exaggerate the minutiae of Leia’s life and tinge it with scandal? And who would play his mother, Phasma? The woman was seven-feet tall with spiky blonde hair, and stood on the opposite spectrum of Leia in terms of appearance.</p><p>“No,” he told Maz. “I’m not peddling my mother’s life for some starlet’s Oscar grab vanity project.”</p><p>“It’s a documentary, Ben. Phasma is a huge fan. There’s at least one reference to your mother in every one of her movies. She actually has it in her contracts,” Maz said. “She’s formed a production company and wants this as her first project.”</p><p>Ben relaxed. That sounded legitimate. He’d been approached about a doc in the past, but nothing ever materialized. Still…</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>Maz breathed hard into the phone. “Ben, this isn’t time to hedge. This woman is willing to put up six figures for rights. That’s how serious she is. <em>High</em> six figures.”</p><p>That got his attention. Ben nearly spilled the remainder of his drink sitting up to listen more. The number currently in his head, which would satisfy the debts, this Phasma could likely provide. Once back in the black, he could get the business side of his mother’s estate profitable again. Leia Organa-branded art supplies -- the signature paints, the instructional manuals -- still sold well, but never enough to dig them completely out of the hole.</p><p>With any money left over, the museum might still happen.</p><p>“I have to be somewhere in two weeks. That antique show Poe was bugging me to do. How soon does she want to meet?”</p><p>“Good for you!” Maz said. “It’s about time you put on some pants and returned to the world of the living.” He sagged at that, and Maz added, “Our meeting was brief because she is on her way to New York, so I imagine we can set up a lunch when you return.”</p><p>Of course Maz would arrange this, and not expect compensation. “I appreciate it, Aunt Maz. Call me when you have a date. Give my love to Chewie.”</p><p>He resumed the show, feeling better about himself and life in general. Not quite a hundred percent, however. People came to him all the time, famous or no, with ideas for Leia-related projects. He promised himself not to get excited until Phasma Scyre handed him a check that cleared.</p><p>“Perfect, Ben! A beautiful beach scene worthy of a signature,” Leia said to her eleven-year-old son. Ben, looking proud of his achievement, dipped a touch-up brush into the Alizarin Crimson and painted his last name in the lower right corner.</p><p>Thirty-one-year-old Ben then shut off the TV and turned on his bedroom light. He studied the painting above his bed, an oil seascape depicting a sunset against a violet sky, overlooked by a tall lighthouse. Distant on the beach, a pair of lovers representing his parents walked the shore.</p><p>His first painting, copied from the template his mother had created before the show. How he wished he could find the companion painting, now lost to time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for the kudos and kind words so far. I tend to reply to comments at the end of the story...and I'm not sure how long this will go. Enjoy the ride.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sure are a lot of people here, hoping their crap is worth something.”</p><p>Rey glared at her friend. “I shouldn’t have brought you. You are going to curse this entire day.”</p><p>“It’s already cursed,” Rose said on a whine. “You’re trying to pass off somebody’s adult wine-drinking paint night project as the real thing.”</p><p>Rey and Rose were queued up in a line, midway, just outside the Scope, Norfolk’s coliseum venue. Per Poe Dameron’s instructions, they were required to arrive by six to get Rey’s assigned taping time with her appraiser. Rose didn’t do six in the morning on weekends, and her attitude reminded Rey why.</p><p>They were attracting stares from the other collectors in line. Rey leaned in to her friend and spoke through clenched teeth. “Will you knock it off?”</p><p>“Fine.” Rose folded her arms and shifted in place. If only the line would move, Rey might find some distraction, away from Rose’s ill temper. She focused on Leia’s painting, currently wrapped in two layers -- glassine paper to protect the artwork, and a white beach towel for a dramatic reveal.</p><p>She thought of Ben Solo, and was excited to meet him. She wondered how he might react, and deep down she truly hoped the work in her hands was authentic.</p><p>Finally the door opened and out stepped a tall, good-looking ginger-haired man wearing a headset and holding an iPad. He had a blue duffel emblazoned with the PBS logo slung on one shoulder; it matched his Polo shirt. “Morning, folks. I thank you for your patience,” he called out in a loud voice for all to hear. “My name is Armitage and I have your waivers and entry passes.”</p><p>“Ooh, he’s cute.” Rose stepped out of line slightly for a better look. “Can you see a ring?”</p><p>“Down, girl.”</p><p>Rose moved back behind Rey. “Hey, I thought we were here to gawk at valuables,” she said. “I’d like to start with his family jewels.”</p><p>The older man in front of them turned, arching an eyebrow. Rey shrugged in apology and hissed at Rose to behave.</p><p>Armitage was walking up and down the line, giving instructions. “So, here’s how it’s going to work. When you come to the door, tell me your name. Each pass,” he held up his own lanyard with a laminated attachment as an example, “has the name of your appraiser and the time of your appointment. You will notice they are color-coded.”</p><p>He paused a moment in front of them. Rose was giving him an appreciative smile, and Armitage seemed to have lost the thread as a result. He recovered quickly, though, and continued, “Each color denotes a specific category of antiques. All you have to do is be in your color section at the appointed time, and we’ll be able to get through all appraisals in a timely manner. If you have questions, please hold them until you see me at the front. Thank you.”</p><p>“I got a question,” Rose said.</p><p>The older man turned again. “Keep it G-rated, please? This is a family show,” he said.</p><p>Rey turned more heads with her laughter.</p><p>***</p><p>Rey hung the lanyard around her neck. Section Blue, Ben Solo, seven-fifteen. This put her as one of the first people to have her work appraised. From what she saw from the line, quite a few people had paintings and portraits. Ben Solo would be busy today.</p><p>“Nice.” Rose inspected her pass, which only said <em>VIP Guest</em> but was the same color as Rey’s. “So what privileges can I abuse with this?”</p><p>“Just don’t touch anything,” Rey told her.</p><p>They stood at the cusp of the main exhibition hall within the coliseum. One half of the space was devoted to filming the appraisals, the other was filled with vendor booths. On the far side, people were setting up to sell a variety of items, everything from wood furniture to vintage jewelry and clothing. Rose willing, Rey wouldn’t mind browsing afterward to find a nice bargain. Perhaps lightning could strike twice.</p><p>“Any concessions?” Rose asked. She wasn’t a breakfast eater. “Being up this early has messed up my rhythms.”</p><p>Before Rey could answer, a voice addressed them. “Have you visited our green room setup yet?” Armitage approached and stopped beside Rose, smiling down at her. “We have drinks and snacks there; you’re welcome to hang there while you wait your turn.”</p><p>“I’m good, thanks,” Rey said, though the painting felt heavier and ungainly in her hands. It made her nervous to have it here. She was afraid somebody might bump into her and damage it. “I was thinking I’d walk over to the blue section and wait my turn. I’m one of the first people anyway.”</p><p>Rose turned fully toward Armitage. “I, however, have nothing to show or sell, and would love some coffee. Could you point me in the right direction?”</p><p>“I’ll do you one better and escort you. I’m headed that way.” Armitage offered his arm and Rose took it. Rey had to laugh at that. Her friend was on an entirely different treasure hunt.</p><p>She took her time walking to the blue section. The first appraisals had begun, and Rey paced slowly, watching the experts interact with the collectors. In Section Red, for sports memorabilia, a woman with an impressive collection of old baseball cards was learning the worth of each one. In Section Yellow, the man who’d been ahead of them in line was explaining how his grandmother, a <em>Titanic</em> survivor, came to take one of the fruit forks from the grand dining room with her.</p><p>In Section Blue, a striking older version of Ben Solo stood squinting in the light of a camera, waiting for his first appointment. Rey stopped just outside the blue masking tape marking the ground. <em>Wow</em>. He’d certainly grown out of that awkward teenager phase.</p><p>Dressed in a dark gray suit, he held a microphone and joked with a man holding a clipboard. He looked right into the camera and said, “This is Ben Solo, in for Anderson Cooper, who is bound and gagged in his dressing room so I could take his job.” Clipboard Guy laughed and slapped Ben with it.</p><p>When both men noticed her watching, they smiled. It looked to her that Ben did so with a bit more interest.</p><p>Clipboard Guy approached. “You’re blue,” he indicated her lanyard, “are you Arlene?”</p><p>“Rey Skyler.”</p><p>His eyes widened and he escorted her a few feet away. “Hey, I’m Poe. Good to meet you.” He shook her hand hard. “Listen, you’ll be up after this Arlene person. I think that’s her now.” He nodded toward a woman toting a large painting. “So you know, Ben is aware of what you’re holding, but he hasn’t seen the photo you sent. However this turns out, I appreciate you coming. I don’t think he’d be here otherwise.”</p><p>“I’m just so nervous,” Rey said. About the value of her painting, meeting Ben Solo...having to hold a conversation with that man. Having to stand next to him…</p><p>“You’ll be fine. Follow Ben’s cues and it’ll be painless. You look camera-ready. Nice touch.” He nodded to her black turtleneck and turquoise pendant.</p><p>Rey nodded. <em>Just breathe.</em> She’d seen this show before. Appraisals didn’t seem to take too long. She just didn’t want to goof on film.</p><p>The woman named Arlene, an older black woman in an elegant print pantsuit, stood next to an easel holding a large painting depicting what looked like a tropical storm -- a dark, raging ocean with white-capped waves, and two swaying palm trees off to one side. Cirrus clouds streaked over a sky of dramatic blue and green. Arlene was explaining to Ben that the painting had been passed down to her by her parents, and that they intimated it had some value.</p><p>“By any chance, Arlene, were your parents from Florida?” he asked.</p><p>She said yes. “I’m from Fort Pierce. My parents moved down there from Brooklyn.”</p><p>Ben nodded, and pointed to the signature. “I know the artist. Rather, of him.” He explained that the painting was created by one of a group of black artists known as the Highwaymen. “Back in the 1950s, much of the unskilled labor jobs in South Florida were in the citrus orchards. Brutal work. To avoid having to work those long hours for little pay, these men created beautiful landscapes and sold them on the side of the road. Mainly off A1A or US 1 to tourists heading to Miami.”</p><p>Rey never realized this. She moved closer to hear better.</p><p>“There were about twenty or so artists identified with this movement, but nine in particular are considered the core group. Arlene,” he paused, ostensibly for dramatic effect, “this artist was one of the nine. It’s clear, too, your parents took great care of this work. It’s an amazing piece of African-American history.”</p><p>The joy and surprise radiating from the woman’s face was palpable. Rey silently rooted for her.</p><p>“I’ve seen Highwaymen paintings average from five to seven thousand at auction,” Ben said, and looked at the landscape again. “But, given the condition and the artist, it’s possible you could get as much as twenty for this.”</p><p>Arlene let out a rapturous cry and, no doubt on impulse, reached out to hug Ben. “Whoa,” he said, laughing, and returned the hug. He looked into the camera and quipped, “Another happy ending.”</p><p>Rey would have applauded were she not holding her artwork. Soon Arlene and her painting were escorted out of the shot and Poe was nudging her into the blue tape square.</p><p>
  <em>This is it.</em>
</p><p>“Ben Solo. Good to meet you.” He held out his hand. Rey felt the electricity immediately. “I understand you have one of my mother’s children.”</p><p>She gave an awkward laugh at the joke. “I’m here to find out,” she said, and made to unwrap the towel before Ben intervened.</p><p>“Hang on a sec. How about you leave it on and we do a reveal?” he asked. “We need some element of drama to top Arlene’s segment.”</p><p>Rey liked the idea. “I’ll need to remove the glassine protecting it first.”</p><p>“Tell you what. I’ll turn my back.” He did just that -- Rey stared at his broad back in that nicely-fitting jacket. “And you let me know when it’s safe.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>While she unwrapped, he asked, “So, Rey Skyler, what do you do when you’re not having artwork appraised?”</p><p>“I’m a massage therapist.”</p><p>Ben began to twist fully around. “I’m not done yet!” Rey said.</p><p>“Sorry.” He grinned and righted himself. “This is exciting, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Oh, yes.” Ben Solo seemed nice. Flirtatious.</p><p>He turned his head and caught his profile. Almost as stunning as him face front. “I don’t want to worry you or anything, but I’ve done so many of these, and unfortunately most of the paintings turned out not to be my mother’s,” he said quietly. “I’m not saying yours isn’t; I just want you to be prepared.”</p><p>“I understand,” Rey said. Her nerves returned full force and settled in her gut.</p><p>“Either way, it’s really nice to meet you.”</p><p>Rey nodded. The towel was now draped over the canvas. “Ready.”</p><p>“Poe, how we doing?” Ben asked, squinting into the light again.</p><p>Poe came forward. “Rey, I’m going to count Ben down, he’s going to intro you and ask questions.” He gestured with a rolling hand. “Just go with flow and this will be awesome.”</p><p><em>It’s just public television</em>, she told herself. No guarantee her segment would make it to air; she’d been warned that when she signed the waiver at the door.</p><p>“Four, three…” Poe then held up two fingers, one, then Ben turned on a megawatt smile.</p><p>Ben said, “With me now is Rey, who has something very special in her possession. You can see it’s hidden for the moment, and you’ll soon know why.” He brought the mic under Rey’s chin. “Rey, how about telling us what we are about to see?”</p><p>“Well, I’m hoping it’s one of your mother’s original works.”</p><p>“I hope so as well. You know, I’ve seen a fair number of Leia Organa-inspired works over the years. It’s rare that somebody comes to me with an actual painting to sell. Those who own, seem to hang onto them.”</p><p>Like hell would she part with this! “As it happened, I purchased this at an estate sale. My neighbor had passed away recently, and her children liquidated everything through an agency. I recognized the style, and there was a signature like Leia’s. I assumed her heirs didn’t realize what they were selling.”</p><p>“Well, no sense in keeping America in suspense,” he said with levity. “Let’s have a look.” He asked Rey to hold the mic.</p><p>Ben lifted the towel covering the canvas, draping it over the easel. He paused his hands in mid-air, and the look of shock on his face caused Rey to take a step back. The man had turned completely white. The way his smile turned down and his mouth gaped slightly, she had trouble discerning his initial conclusion.</p><p>“So...is it one of hers?” she asked.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>1. A few places in this story are either actual or based upon actual venues. The Scope is an actual coliseum in Norfolk, VA, e.g. Will make notes as the story progresses.</p><p>2. The Highwaymen were an actual group of black artists in the 1950s-60s who lived in South Florida. My grandfather was acquainted with some of them. There's is a fascinating story; highly recommended to research.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content: 9/11 mention</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Holy shit.</em>
</p><p>It was here. It was right fucking here; he could touch it.</p><p>
  <em>Mom...I found it. At last.</em>
</p><p>He put a hand to his mouth, unable to speak for a moment. The white noise of voices and antique setups dulled to a buzz in his ears. He couldn’t stop staring at the twin of his first Organa-style painting. The one he thought he’d never see again.</p><p>How did this woman end up with it? She was supposed to show him an amateur's attempt, like everybody else had.</p><p>He turned toward the rolling camera. Poe stood off to the side with a panicked expression that read, <em>Say something!</em></p><p>Ben looked back at Rey, who appeared visibly concerned. He took back the mic and summoned up the strength to speak. “Rey, this neighbor of yours...did she by chance work for a public television station?”</p><p>“I don’t really know,” Rey said. “She was already retired when we met, and I’m sorry to say we weren’t closely acquainted. I didn’t even visit her home until the day of the sale.” She gazed at the seascape. “Are you implying this is your mother’s work?”</p><p>The woman was taking over the interview; he was too stunned. Ben moved his right hand over the lighthouse as though he might stroke the painted-on bricks of the exterior. He pulled it back quickly, however, still staring. “Actually, I’m confirming it.”</p><p>He heard a whispered <em>Yes!</em> behind him. Turning, he saw Poe giving a fist pump to the cameraman.</p><p>“Omigod.” Rey’s mouth gaped wide, but she quickly recovered. “I paid five dollars for this!”</p><p>That declaration got a few laughs from onlookers. <em>I’ll give you everything I have for it</em>, Ben thought.</p><p>Instead, he told her, “Rey, what you have here is a unique project. I’ll explain why in a moment, but let me show you and the viewers at home something.”</p><p>Ben lifted the painting and gently turned it around to expose the back of the canvas. “For every episode she filmed, my mother hand painted two copies of the same design. She created the first version beforehand as a guide, and she painted the second one in real time during taping.” He pointed to the top right corner of the canvas, where it wrapped around the frame, and asked the cameraman to zoom in. “If you think you have one of my mother’s paintings at home, you’ll want to look for this.”</p><p>He pointed to writing in ballpoint ink, a series of numbers.</p><p>“She dated every landscape she painted, and wrote a ‘1’ or ‘2’ after it to note the version of the piece,” Ben continued. “She always kept the second version in her collection. In fact, the Leia Organa Foundation has every piece painted on the show, that’s four hundred works. The first versions were gifted to public TV stations around the country. Some kept them, others auctioned them off as part of their fundraiser drives. I really have no record of their whereabouts.”</p><p>“I see,” Rey said. “I’m sorry to say I couldn’t tell you how my neighbor got this.”</p><p>“I may have an idea,” Ben said. “You’ll see my mother wrote a ‘1’ here. This was the guide painting, and it’s one hundred percent her work.” He paused to prevent a crack in his voice. “Technically, there is no ‘2’. Not by her. I painted the second version. Rey, you have the only copy of my mother’s work for this seascape design. She never copied this.”</p><p>“Wow.”</p><p>He could almost see her heart pounding. “Of course, she had guest artists on her show, so there are a number of instances where my mother created the first version and somebody else the second. In this case,” he said, “it was for an episode of <em>Painting Joy</em> that never aired.” He looked at her as he spoke. He found it more comfortable than staring into a lens.</p><p>“I was eleven at the time, and it was to have been my debut on the show. The episode in question was scheduled to air first on September 11, 2001, so I think you can guess why it didn’t.”</p><p>Rey nodded, looking mournful now. “Yes.”</p><p>“At any rate, that episode was shelved, and for reasons lost to time it was never rescheduled or put into the rerun rotation. I wouldn’t actually appear on TV for the first time until I was fifteen.” Ben turned the canvas back to display the seascape. “So not only do you have a single Leia Organa original, you have the one from the so-called lost episode.”</p><p>Rey looked rigid, ready to burst with his next words.</p><p>“At their highest, her paintings have gone for ten thousand dollars at auction,” he said. “If you were to sell this, based on what I’ve just told you, I believe you could triple that amount.”</p><p>Thirty grand. If only he could write a check now. The notion that Rey Skyler would soon take this picture away forever ate at him.</p><p>Rey shrieked. He couldn’t blame her, considering her five-dollar investment. She’d won the damn lottery.</p><p>“That is amazing!” And she launched herself at him, crushing him harder than Arlene had.</p><p>“You’re wel --”</p><p>Rey didn’t stop there. She grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him in for a full-on kiss.</p><p>***</p><p>She wasn’t thinking straight. Who could, with the news that a five-dollar purchase had netted her a work of art worth more than her car? Not that she was interested in the money -- she’d loved that painting at first sight. Now she’d take it home with the knowledge she owned a legacy that might increase in value over time. Rose was mistaken; it wasn’t worthless crap.</p><p>Why not celebrate with a spontaneous action? After all, that other woman had hugged Ben and he didn’t seem to mind. He ought to be happy to be reunited with one of his mother’s landscapes, if only temporarily. She’d certainly take good care of it.</p><p>All that, and Rey had to spend the whole segment staring at his kissable face, the only thing in the venue able to keep her gaze off the painting.</p><p>She heard the<em> thunk</em> of the mic hitting the ground. She tasted strong coffee and inhaled woodsy aftershave. She felt the tiniest bite of coarse stubble along the ridge of Ben’s lower lip, like a missed spot shaving or the initial growth of a soul patch.</p><p>Then two hands touched down around her back and nudged her closer.</p><p>Then Ben’s lips parted and his tongue brushed the seam of her mouth, as though swiping to open. So she did.</p><p>“Should I keep filming this?” a background voice asked. Further in the distance came energized chatter and a few wolf whistles.</p><p>“Ohmigod,” Poe said, sounding all groany.</p><p>Ohmigod right. She was making out with a man she’d just met, in a public place on the same channel that aired Mister Rogers. That broke the spell and she tore away from Ben with a loud gasp. The poor man looked as scandalized as she felt.</p><p>Ben jerked ramrod straight, his expression pure bewilderment with raised eyebrows and rapidly blinking eyes. He searched the ground for his mic and scooped it up. “Well, Rey, thank you for joining us on <em>Antique</em>…” He glanced in Poe’s direction for a cue, “<em>Appraisals</em>, and best wishes for you and your painting.”</p><p>Rey patted down her hair. She brushed her hand down her cheek and felt the searing hot of her skin. “Thank you,” she managed in a steady voice.</p><p>The camera light dimmed. Ben sagged in place.</p><p>“I am so sorry,” she told him. “I just got excited when you said…”</p><p>Ben waved off the apology. “You’re fine, please. That happens more often than you think.”</p><p>“Really?” She doubted it.</p><p>“Yeah. Sister Mary Agnes forgot where she was, too,” he said, not without a tinge of sarcasm. He straightened his jacket and gave her a crooked smile. “So, what are your --” The question died when two show volunteers crowded them to set up the next appointment.</p><p>“Oh,” he said, and looked at her with apology, “guess this is it.”</p><p>“Yeah.” She handed one of the people the glassine paper to recover the canvas. “Thank you again. Nice to meet you.” With that she was shuffled away to hurry along the show’s packed schedule.</p><p>Standing outside the confines of the blue tape, she heard Ben addressing Poe. “You’re going to edit that out, right?”</p><p>Poe laughed. “You kidding? She signed a waiver. We could go viral.”</p><p>Rey clutched her very valuable Leia Organa original and walked fast, not stopping until reached the green room and Rose. Her friend sat at a table, laughing and chatting with her newfound admirer.</p><p>“Rey,” she said, her expression shifting to worry. “Honey, what is it? Ben Solo disappointed you, didn’t he?”</p><p>Rey shook her head. “No,” she said, “can’t say that he did.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>One chapter today. Tomorrow will be two, since they are paired. Thank you for the kind words so far.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The remainder of the day passed like a kidney stone. Next appointment after Rey was a married couple -- a giddy, blue-haired wife and a humorless retired Marine. “Make a move on my Gladys and I’ll slug you,” he warned Ben, shaking a liver-spotted fist. The revelation that their “collage of squiggly lines” turned out to be an authentic Joan Miró appeased the old fossil.</p>
<p>Beyond that, it was a mixed bag. Yet Ben soldiered through each appraisal, careful to keep his distance when speaking to the art owners. He was done with public displays of affection, unless by some miracle he found Rey again in the melee of the event’s breakdown.</p>
<p>He handed all technical equipment in his hand and on his person to Poe’s assistant, then removed his jacket. He felt stuffy, or maybe suffered residual heat from that kiss. Damn, but he’d enjoyed it. He failed to remember the last time a woman had stirred any real emotion in him. All this worrying about money and his mother’s estate basically equated to a fire hose extinguishing his libido.</p>
<p>Poe sauntered up to him. “Didn’t I tell you this would be fun?”</p>
<p><em>Fuck you.</em> “You let her get away.” He still tasted her flavored lip balm. Cotton candy.</p>
<p>“Relax, Ben. She’s not hopping a plane for Switzerland,” Poe said. “She’s local, and I have her contact information. I take it you were interested in buying the painting?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Was it possible? He’d quoted thirty grand. People would see him say that on television. He had nowhere close to that in cash, and what bank would extend him a line of credit to make a reasonable offer?</p>
<p>He’d seen the pride in her expression when she showed off her treasure. He knew she wasn’t going to simply hand it over in a gesture of goodwill. There must be a way…</p>
<p>“Let’s go eat. You earned it.” Poe clapped him on the shoulder and steered him away from the makeshift set. “First, I want to know,” he said as they walked away, “was I the better kisser?”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Thirty grand,” Rose said for the umpteenth time.</p>
<p>Rey dumped the entire contents of a slim pasta box into the boiling pot. “Thirty grand,” she echoed.</p>
<p>“Explain to me again why we’re eating a fifty-cent box of noodles and jarred Ragu when you have that much coin hanging on the wall?”</p>
<p>“Because I like spaghetti,” Rey said. She glanced at her friend, who sat in her recliner, staring at the seascape now back in its place. Yet when Rose studied it, it was no longer with dismissal. She seemed to salivate more for the painting than dinner.</p>
<p>“You know what you could do with thirty thousand dollars?” Rose began.</p>
<p>Rey stirred the noodles. “Don’t,” she warned.</p>
<p>“It’s not like we have to change our lifestyles. I’m fine being frugal, but, Rey…” Rose turned in her seat, resting her chin on top of the chair. “You cash it in, you got seed money for your own studio.”</p>
<p>“Don’t.” She stretched out the word, banishing images of her own shingle hanging from a door.</p>
<p>“No more bullshit at the spa. No more pressure from management to upsell clients to enroll in memberships they can’t afford or quit without reporting a credit card stolen…”</p>
<p>Rey brought down the wooden spoon in her hand with a sharp bang. “I know, Rose.” Her voice sounded testy and her upper back muscles bunched. The dream of opening her own massage studio had lived rent free in her head for years. She had everything planned down to the grand opening -- the ideal location, the marketing plan, the decor. Many of her regulars had said they’d follow her to a new place in a heartbeat. All that was missing was the money.</p>
<p>Getting a business loan had been an exercise in futility despite the fact she no longer had student debt. No collateral, a meh credit score. A nice cash pillow of thirty grand could change that, and all she had to do was sell that precious eighteen by twenty-four stretched canvas to somebody who might not appreciate it as much.</p>
<p>Not exactly. There was Ben Solo. She recalled his initial reaction on seeing the work. Had they spent a few more minutes together, she had no doubt he’d have made an offer right there. And she had to go and kiss him like she’d won a car on a game show. Or the man on <em>The Bachelor</em>.</p>
<p>Rey licked her lips, but it didn’t erase the sensation of Ben edging his tongue deeper into her. Oh, to feel that again...</p>
<p>She turned in the galley kitchen and looked out the pass-through at the painting. She simply loved it. Leia Organa had touched paint to canvas to create that scene. The woman probably wasn’t thinking of its material value when she created it, only that it was something beautiful, her gift to her fans.</p>
<p>It was a second-class relic in the art world, a lucky find for Rey, and the idea of parting with it made her ache. Even if it meant realizing her dream.</p>
<p>“Rey.”</p>
<p>Rose’s sharp voice popped the bubble.</p>
<p>“It’s just a thing. Skyler Massage Studio is the rest of your life. Your freedom.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Rey said, and went to drain the spaghetti.</p>
<p>“At least think about it. I’m not saying put it on eBay tomorrow.”</p>
<p><em>Yeah.</em> Rey checked the sauce simmering on the back burner. They would eat, and she would think. Deep down, though, she understood it would take an incredible offer to tempt her.</p>
<p>She imagined even handsome Ben Solo, who had the more intimate connection to the seascape, would find it challenging to sway her.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Halfway through the pint of Cherry Garcia they were splitting, Rose received a text. Her lips pursed reading it, then spread into a smile.</p>
<p>“That your friend Armand?” Rey licked the ice cream off her spoon.</p>
<p>“It’s Armitage, and we’ve been invited out for drinks.” Rose cleared her bowl. “A group from the TV station is heading to Short Circuit. Let’s go. I haven’t been out in so long.”</p>
<p>Rey dropped her spoon on the table. “I legit took you to an antique show this morning.”</p>
<p>“I meant someplace fun.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t have fun today?” Rey asked, wanting to laugh. “You hooked up with the guy there.”</p>
<p>Rose scrolled down her phone. “You might get as lucky tonight. He said Ben Solo is coming.”</p>
<p>“Ah.” Her heart throbbed at that news. Was he aware of this invite? Was this a setup to get them together so he could attempt to buy the painting? Rey shook off the thought. If Ben wanted it, surely he’d be direct about it. He ran the business of Leia Organa, no need for high school tactics.</p>
<p>Slowly, she lifted herself from her chair and put her dirties in the sink. “Why not?” she said. “I don’t want to stay out too late, though. I’m booked full at the spa tomorrow because I took today off.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, can’t have you falling asleep on top of somebody in the middle of a massage.” Rose was already in her room, changing. “Wear something hot. If Ben wants to buy that painting from you, he needs to make it <em>rainnnn</em>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Short Circuit was a social club in downtown Norfolk known for its wide selection of regional microbrews and wider selection of old school arcade games. To play and drink, patrons set up pre-paid tabs through swipe cards used to activate the games and the self-serve beer taps. Anybody wanting hard liquor and appetizers had to order from a passing server.</p>
<p>Rey and Rose had been to the club in the past, and still had their cards, each of which managed two accounts -- one for the video games, one for booze. Before leaving, they refilled each card through the club’s website so they wouldn’t have to wait in line and have it done there.</p>
<p>They parked at the downtown mall parking garage and walked. Halfway there, Rey regretted her choice of shoes. The black kitten heel pumps looked great and complimented her sleeveless, knee-length dress, but they pinched. Yet they were the lesser evil compared to her thick-heeled boots, which Rose had borrowed to go with her black boot-cut pants and bright red halter top.</p>
<p>Saturday night, naturally, the place was busy. People clustered around the wall of taps, the bars, and the pool tables, with surprisingly few stand-up games occupied. Poe spotted them first, and came up to greet them with a pint in hand.</p>
<p>“Armie’s getting his drink. Ben’s holding the couch,” he said, referring to the larger of the socializing spaces in the warehouse-themed venue. Rose offered to fetch her a drink.</p>
<p>Rey handed Rose her swipe card. “Bold Rock, any flavor is fine.”</p>
<p>She found Ben in a far corner, manspread on a leather couch. Still wearing the morning’s suit, he sat on the middle cushion and stretched his arms over the length of the furniture. One hand held a highball glass by the rim. An open sketchpad rested on his lap. His eyes were closed and head tilted back in a look that seemed to project <em>Do not wake me.</em></p>
<p>The picture gave the impression of the first few seconds of a cologne ad, where any minute now some sexy supermodel would straddle his thighs, take the drink, and knock it back before kissing him. A scene like that required a tie, though. One to wrap around the hand and pull his face close…</p>
<p>“Hey there.”</p>
<p>The greeting woke her from the fantasy. Ben was smiling at her now, and crooking his neck in invitation for her to sit. She took the seat to his left and he moved his arms down.</p>
<p>“I only know one other person here,” he said. “It’s nice to see you again.”</p>
<p>“Feeling’s mutual. How did your other appointments fare?” she asked. “Any lost da Vincis?”</p>
<p>“One.” He winked. “Don’t think I can tell you how<em> that</em> person thanked me without blushing.”</p>
<p>“Right.” Rey scrubbed a hand around her neck. Hotter than July. “About what...happened…”</p>
<p>“Rey, don’t worry about it. It was exciting news you received.” Ben raised his hand as though he might pat her on the knee, but seemed to think better of it. Back in his lap it went. “For what it’s worth, I did convince Poe to edit out most of your, ah, reaction.”</p>
<p>“I appreciate it.” Rey glanced at the large pad, open to a blank page. “I take it you’re not a social butterfly if you’re hiding in the back with your book.”</p>
<p>“I came to drink.”</p>
<p>“How far ahead are you?” she asked.</p>
<p>Ben held up the glass. “Oh, I’ve barely started,” he said, then leaned to the other side to inspect the crowd. “I don’t think anybody’s coming back this way anytime soon.”</p>
<p><em>Doesn’t bother me one bit.</em> Rey nodded at the sketchbook. He’d put the pencil inside the spiral. “Trouble with inspiration tonight?”</p>
<p>“No. I finished something earlier; I turned to a fresh page in case the mood strikes again.”</p>
<p>“May I?” When Ben consented, Rey took the large book and flipped back to the cover to begin on page one. Ben had about twenty or so pages filled. The first few contained a variety of practice sketches -- hands and arms, facial expressions, birds, animal heads and the like. As Rey studied a page, she sensed Ben moving closer on the couch. The sharp scent of his whiskey wafted within her personal space as he brought the glass to his lips.</p>
<p>“I envy your talent,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to draw.”</p>
<p>“You can draw. Anybody can draw, anybody can paint. You just have to commit to it.”</p>
<p>Rey shook her head. “I’m not certain of that. Being artistic, some of that’s innate.”</p>
<p>“You had to train to become a massage therapist, right?” Ben asked. “I mean, you weren’t expertly rubbing people down out of the womb. You had to learn.”</p>
<p>Rey side-eyed him. “You’re sure you’re not drunk?”</p>
<p>“I’m only saying that if you’re a fan of my mother’s as you claim, you should know the purpose of that show. She was a teacher. That show was her classroom,” Ben said, and sipped his drink. “She didn’t expect viewers to come out of the gate with canvases of perfect trees, because not all trees are perfect. I’ll bet you that if you painted every landscape in every episode, by the final one you’ll draw better than me.” He tapped the pad for emphasis.</p>
<p>Rey adored his enthusiasm. “Where am I going to store four hundred canvases?”</p>
<p>“Every time you finish one, you re-prime it and try again. I still do it myself.”</p>
<p>Good advice. Rey continued with the sketchbook and the two sat quietly while she browsed. The drawings progressed in detail, size and quality as she turned the pages. Ben had drawn lovely renderings of the Episocopal church at Colonial Williamsburg and a gorgeous wild Mustang frolicking along a beach.</p>
<p>“I’ll say it again. I am in awe.” Rey let her gaze linger on the horse. She could almost smell the salt air swirling around it. “So you do pencils and oils...any other media?”</p>
<p>“One or two. Nothing I could show here.”</p>
<p>When she looked at him for clarification, he apologized. “Just an inside joke, known only to me.”</p>
<p>The second to last page depicted the seascape painting, in pencil. Rey marveled at the scope of it; it looked as though somebody had worked a black and white filter on her canvas.</p>
<p>“You drew this today?” she asked. “From memory?”</p>
<p>She looked up, and realized Ben had stretched his arm across the back of the couch again. The increased intimacy of the moment brought chills down her arms.</p>
<p>His expression held a sort of reverence for the scenery. Clearly that picture had been inspired by a real place, and happier memories.</p>
<p>“It’s not difficult for me,” he said. “I told you, I painted this once. I see it every day.”</p>
<p>“My Leia seascape is in our living room above the couch.”</p>
<p>Ben held her gaze. “My Ben Solo seascape is above my headboard.” And he waggled his eyebrows. “Anyway,” he made to take back the sketchbook, “it’s been on my mind, and I do thank you for bringing it to the antique show. I hope it makes you very happy.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.” Rose’s words about selling rang in her mind. Best not to bring up the topic yet. She still vacillated between keeping and asking him for an offer. Rose had a point about using the painting to fund her massage studio, but Ben deserved the right of first refusal.</p>
<p>“Wait a minute,” she said. “The page underneath this has something.”</p>
<p>Ben’s body stiffened. “No, it’s just a rough sketch. Not ready for prime time.”</p>
<p>“You mean like the earlier pages that you let me see?” Rey had the corner of the seascape page pinched between her fingers and was lifting it. “Ben, your work is amazing, I’m sure this is…”</p>
<p>
  <em>Me.</em>
</p>
<p>She exposed the page to reveal that he’d drawn her face.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>How rude would it be to leap up from this sofa for a refill? Though he’d barely dented this first drink?</p>
<p>Instead, Ben looked for a place to set his glass and settled on the floor by his feet. “Rey,” he began.</p>
<p>“Wow,” Rey said. “Ben, this is...wow.” She let out a light gasp. “Nobody’s ever drawn a picture of me before.”</p>
<p>“No? Not even at a kid’s party with a clown caricature artist?” Ben’s gaze darted from her profile, radiant with awe, and her twin on the page. Rey had lingered in his mind as much as the painting, taunting him to the point that he had to get her down for posterity. Here he’d sketched her in a slight profile, having done much of the shading and final detailing right here, as she’d looked while admiring her estate sale purchase.</p>
<p>Soft, honored, lovely. He tried to capture the moment she realized the worth of what he imagined was now her most prized possession.</p>
<p>With a nod and quiet word of thanks, she closed the book in a gentle movement and handed it to him. “Do you have many finished works, beyond what you painted on your mother’s show?” she asked. “I’m surprised I don’t hear more about you as an artist.”</p>
<p>“At the very least, I draw daily. Painting requires more setup and time, and I give so much to the appraisal work and managing the foundation, among other things.” He looked around the club. Their companions were quite slow to return, and Ben realized something. “Did you want something to drink?”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Rey stretched up in her seat and peered toward the wall of taps. “Rose was getting me a cider...and instead she’s wrapped around that ginger-haired guy we met at the antique show and no doubt forgotten.”</p>
<p>“I’m happy to flag down a server.” Somewhere in his wallet was a credit card that wouldn’t sound off an alarm.</p>
<p>Rey waved him down. “You know what, I’m fine. I don’t drink much anyway, and I prefer to come here for the arcade.”</p>
<p>“So how about a game?” He thanked her silently for the opportunity to change the subject. Much as he enjoyed talking about his work, lately it reminded him that he was nowhere close to accomplishing his goals. He couldn’t offer Rey a thousand bucks for the violet seascape, much less twenty-nine more. For a painting on which he couldn’t put an exact price...</p>
<p>He plucked a swipe card from his jacket breast pocket. “Poe gave me this. There’s about ten bucks of game credit on it.”</p>
<p>“Should be plenty to keep us occupied. All the games are a quarter to play. Just like the old days.” She laughed at her joke and stood, surveying their options. Poe told him this place held over fifty arcade games from the 1980s.</p>
<p>“What’ll it be?” she asked. “I’m partial to Ms. Pac Man.”</p>
<p>Interesting. His favorite of the Pac folk. “That’s fine,” he said then, giving her a smile, asked, “So how good are you? Because I’m a fair player.”</p>
<p>“Take a walk with me.”</p>
<p>Short Circuit had two Ms. Pac Man machines, both currently unoccupied. Ben shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves as Rey led him to the one on the right. She gestured to the screen. It cycled through a sample game, then the title screen, then the list of top scores. When it came up she pointed to number three: REY.</p>
<p>“Dang it,” she said. “That score was in second place last month.”</p>
<p>“Impressive. I wonder how well I can compete,” Ben said with a taunting edge to his voice.</p>
<p>“You can’t.” Rey delivered the line with clarity. “I’m just that good.”</p>
<p>“Maybe some of your good fortune’s rubbed off on me, though.” He stroked a finger across his lower lip for emphasis, and reveled in the look of slight embarrassment given to him. This would be fun; he desperately required it.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Rey didn’t let her stare waver. “Would you care to make this interesting?”</p>
<p>“A bet?” Hopefully not money. “Surely you’re not --”</p>
<p>Rey barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m not putting up the painting, even though I’ll win. No,” she leaned in close. Ben caught the faintest hint of cotton candy and it stirred his appetite. “After I beat you at this, I want lessons.”</p>
<p>“Lessons.”</p>
<p>“Teach me to paint landscapes,” Rey said. “I know I can watch your mother do it on TV four hundred different ways, but, Ben… your drawings are amazing. I know I can learn as much or more from you hands on.”</p>
<p>Were those the right words to say? Ben recalled his hands on Rey earlier, trying to prolong that kiss. “Okay,” he said, “and if I win, I want a professional massage.” Lord knew he could use one to work out the tension in his neck and back.</p>
<p>“Just one?” Rey’s face wrinkled a bit. So cute. “Is that a fair enough exchange?”</p>
<p>“Well, this is a bet. It’s not like we’re bartering,” he said. “Am I allowed to ask for more than one massage?” Could he survive the first one, with Rey’s oiled-up hands stroking his bare skin…</p>
<p>“How much do you charge for private art lessons?” Rey was taking the card from his hand and waving it over the sensor to start the game.</p>
<p>Ben leaned against the side of the upright game case. “I don’t give lessons, but I’d say a fair price would be twenty-five dollars an hour,” he said. “And you figure one to two hours per session.”</p>
<p>“I charge sixty for a one-hour massage.” Rey’s finger hovered over the two-player button. “Fair to say that one massage equals a two-hour art lesson? How many lessons do you think it would take for somebody who’s never before picked up a brush to copy the seascape?”</p>
<p>Ben shook his head. “That’s difficult to say. Of course, I’d expect you to practice at home as well.” He leaned into her, and detected a hint of simmering tension when she eyed him. “Are you really making me do math? I was an art major.”</p>
<p>“I play fair, Ben Solo,” she said, “and the stakes should be fair. In the very unlikely event I will lose,” she scowled as he smiled, “your prize should be equivalent to what you can give me.”</p>
<p><em>What I would love to give you…</em> “Let’s say six lessons, two hours per. Do math in your head for me, Rey: twelve times twenty-five.”</p>
<p>“That’s three hundred dollars,” Rey said. “Divide by sixty…” Her eyes rolled upward in quick thought. “Five massages.”</p>
<p>“You’re on.” Ben mashed his thumb on the two-player button. “Ladies first.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>1. Short Circuit is based on an actual barcade in Norfolk.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rey brought the pain.</p>
<p>The key to going the distance in any video game, she knew, was calling up tunnel vision. Once the melodic intro music began she positioned herself directly in front of the screen and caused Ben to stumble back a step. She paid no attention to her surroundings, or his movements, and ignored his looming reflection in the glass.</p>
<p>She longed to paint like Leia Organa, but had never summoned the courage to try. Ben Solo would teach her for free after she kicked his ass in Ms. Pac Man.</p>
<p>On a good run with this game, Rey could typically get to the seventh level before losing a bow-tied player. She breezed past the first section of orange mazes with ease, but struggled a bit at the light blue maze level. One ghost nearly nipped her but she caught the power pellet in time for a counter attack.</p>
<p>“Damn,” Ben muttered, no doubt thinking he’d get his turn. She blocked out his deep voice.</p>
<p>By level eight, halfway through completing the brown maze at an increased speed, Rey made a fatal turn and rammed her Ms. Pac Man into the red ghost. She slapped the joystick in frustration, but felt confident in her advanced lead.</p>
<p>“You’re up,” she told Ben, and he moved into place. He cast her a quick glance that spoke of his determination to win. She didn’t miss how his gaze panned down to her hands, as though looking forward to a massage.</p>
<p>Shame he’d lose, because she certainly wouldn’t have minded. Yet, as she watched from the sidelines as he passed level after level, her hopes threatened to sink. Like Rey, he also washed out at level eight, but his score was significantly higher. Ben had a strategy; where she focused mainly on clearing the mazes to rise in the ranks, Ben used his time to capture all the wayward fruit bonuses and to eat the ghosts whenever possible.</p>
<p>She studied his playing hand as he maneuvered the joystick, how he alternated between pressing his palm down hard and steering, and dancing his fingers along the knob. Being an artist, Ben had to be good with his hands. The mere fact prompted a number of fantasies to bloom in her mind.</p>
<p>“Jeez,” he said after losing his first player. “That’s a workout.” He executed a few shoulder rolls and ceded the machine to her. “I’ll be right back.”</p>
<p>Rey didn’t see where he went. She resumed play with the idea to adopt his moves, and her score racked up higher with the addition of bonuses and felled ghosts. With every level passed the game moved faster; no risking a glance to see if he’d returned.</p>
<p>When she sensed Ben’s return, a glint of shiny glass caught in her peripheral vision. <em>Focus, Rey</em>. She passed the level, but the ghosts surrounded her on level seventeen and down went her Pac girl.</p>
<p>“Rose got that for you.” Ben pointed to the tall glass of pinkish cider on the tall table next to the video game. She left Ben to his second round while she stepped over to the couch, where the rest of their party lounged and drank.</p>
<p>Rey sipped her drink. “Is this the Rosé?” she asked her friend. It was good, crisp.</p>
<p>Four people squeezed together on the sofa -- Rose and Armitage on the right, Poe with a lady he introduced as Zorii next to them. “You seemed to like that last time,” Rose said, and leaned past her to study Ben’s form. “Pretty intense battle happening there.”</p>
<p>Rey glanced back at him. “High stakes. If I win, he’s giving me free art lessons.” She turned back when Poe coughed wet. “You okay?”</p>
<p>Poe had been sipping his beer and Rey just missed it coming back in a spit-take. “Tell me you didn’t challenge Ben to Ms. Pac Man.”</p>
<p>Her palms began to sweat. “Why do you say that?”</p>
<p>Poe beckoned her closer and everybody scooted in to hear. “Rey, I’ve known that guy since middle school. In fact, he helped me get my job. When he wasn’t drawing and painting he was gaming everything from Asteroids to Zelda. He will probably flip that machine.”</p>
<p>“Omigod,” she said, her breath leaving her. “Am I being hustled?”</p>
<p>“That depends,” Rose said. “What does he get if he wins? You didn’t bet the painting, did you?”</p>
<p>“No.” Thank goodness for that. Would Ben act so deviously? Betting had been her idea, though. “Just free massages.”</p>
<p>“The happy ending kind?” cracked Armitage. Rose pinched him hard and he yelped.</p>
<p>Rey said nothing and walked slowly back to Ben. <em>Play me for a sucker, will you?</em></p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Ben pressed his forehead against the top of the arcade case. A twinge of guilt rose up in his gut; maybe he ought to have mentioned his love for this particular game. So many memories attached to it.</p>
<p>As his game raged on, his gaze fixed to the screen, his mind slipped back in time to summers in Corolla. Pepperoni pizza at Pasqualina’s. Red and white checkerboard tablecloths and lighted candles in Chianti bottles. He and Dad duking it out on the tabletop Ms. Pac Man game while Mom watched with amazement.</p>
<p><em>If only you could master your science and math as well</em>… Yeah, yeah. He was a boy on vacation, trying to beat his dad for the last slice. Damn, but he missed them both. The rapid gluttony of his current Pac player couldn’t stop the mist in his eyes as he worked to complete another level.</p>
<p>Those two arms coming around his middle, however…</p>
<p>What...?</p>
<p>A body pressed into his back. Hands settled on his abdomen. Ben felt Rey’s cheek brush against his arm. “So,” she said in a low, seductive voice, “what level are you on now?”</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” His heartbeat, already spiked by adrenaline, further quickened. Yet he kept to the game.</p>
<p>“Oh, nothing. Offering a bit of moral support, is all.”</p>
<p>Ben shifted in place. If her hands moved south, he’d probably bang a knee on the machine. At least she wasn’t pinning his playing arm. “I thought you said you played fair,” he said, his teeth clenching.</p>
<p>“When my opponent plays fair, I do. I had a little conversation with your friend Poe.”</p>
<p><em>That fucker.</em> Ben huffed out a hoarse laugh and shook his head. Left, down, got the pellet, getting the ghost. “Oh, yeah. I can explain.”</p>
<p>“Really?” Rey pressed one hand hard while the other slid over his belt into dangerous territory. “I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t put that seascape on the line --”</p>
<p>“Rey, stop.” He meant the pending accusation, not necessarily her grip on his pants. “I’ll admit, I would love to have my mother’s painting back, but I would never trick you out of it. You bought it; it’s yours. I hope you believe me.”</p>
<p>Level completed. He had five seconds to rest before starting again and glanced at her. Rey was silent, looking contemplative, until play resumed.</p>
<p>“Ben, I’m sorry for thinking the worst. Of course I believe you,” she said. “Since you told me the painting’s history, it’s like my entire life has changed. I keep fearing my luck will turn, though.”</p>
<p>“Rey, feel free to ask me anything. I appraise art and I also help people sell work.” His next words pained him. “If it ever comes to that, let me help.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.” Rey loosened her grip.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to do that,” he added quickly. “I think that’s actually helping me.”</p>
<p>Rey backed off with a loud laugh. “Forget it. I still want those free lessons.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>When Ben and Rey battled with their remaining Pac ladies, a crowd had formed around the machine. Rey finished off with a record high and would definitely enter her initials over her previous high score. Question was, would Ben’s go above or below?</p>
<p>She hung back with the dozen or so people gathered to watch Ben in the zone. Rose was leaning back against Armitage as he draped his arms over her shoulders. The white noise in this bubble had lowered to a buzz. Rey bit her thumb, nervous.</p>
<p>“This is wild,” Rose whispered to her. “Fourth and goal at the Super Bowl wild.”</p>
<p>“I feel like I want to throw up,” Rey told her. “Why? It’s a video game.”</p>
<p>Yet, it was more than that. It was free tutoring by a handsome art pro. It was the opportunity to channel her creativity into a new venture. It was time alone with a fascinating person.</p>
<p>A cry of anguish rose, causing a ripple effect. Ben threw up his hands and spun around, looking exhausted. He paced a few steps away, shaking his head at her with an open-mouthed grin. He gestured to the machine. “Have a look.”</p>
<p>Nerves gripped her, but Rey steeled herself for the bad news. She squealed out her shock on seeing she had beaten Ben by fifty points. “Holy cow!” They had the top two scores on the machine.</p>
<p>“Congratulations,” he said, as the good sports shook hands. “Six free art lessons. You earned them.”</p>
<p>Rey was exhilarated. “When do we start?” Too bad tomorrow was out. In her head she worked out her off days.</p>
<p>“We’ll figure it out. You let me know what days, nights, are good for you,” he said as she put in her initials. “Would you mind, though, coming up to see me? We’ll use the studio where Mom worked later in life.”</p>
<p>Wow. All those good vibes Leia Organa must have imprinted on the place. “I can swing that.” She moved aside to give Ben the joystick. He entered BEN in the second place slot.</p>
<p>“Posterity,” he said, and they gazed down at their names on the high scorers list until it disappeared. He turned to her and asked, “You rather like being on top, don’t you?”</p>
<p>The smoldering look in his eyes hit her right in the chest and spread heat everywhere. “I do.”</p>
<p>“Good to know.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>1. While Corolla, NC is a real place, and they have pizza joints, no such pizza place in this story exists.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An eventful weekend faded into a busy week for each of them, thanks in part to residual activity related to <em>Antique Appraisals</em>. While Poe had assured Ben that any footage of Rey’s impromptu kiss would be excised from the final edit of the Norfolk episode, it didn’t stop other filmed versions from leaking onto social media.</p><p>At least three clips taken by attendees were making the rounds on Tik Tok and Twitter. A search on his name brought up the kiss at different angles -- Ben roaming his hands along Rey’s back, Rey cupping his face with a gentle touch. His eyes closed and brow relaxed, like he was kissing his bride.</p><p>Comments ranged from accusations of unprofessional behavior to virtual fistbumps. It was enough to get Leia Organa trending again, with people sharing their favorite memes and GIFs of her show, however. Ben did have to smile at one comment: <em>Bet he was sporting a happy tree trunk after that.</em></p><p>At least the person hadn’t qualified the word <em>tree</em> with <em>little</em>. It almost got a response.</p><p>Queries for interviews and appraisal work filled his inbox and the voicemail he used for the foundation. Best of all, as he saw it, merchandise saw a brief spike. It worried him that Rey might experience some blowback as a result of the attention, but every time they connected by phone or text she noted that her days at work were booked solid. “No reporters or anything like that,” she’d said. “I suppose people are curious, and they’re all Leia fans, too.”</p><p>Still, Ben worried. She’d been doxxed, so to speak, and while she’d consented to appear on <em>Antique Appraisals</em> that permission didn’t extend to whomever uploaded those clips. What if somebody attempted to break into her apartment?</p><p>Poe called as he pondered that nightmare. “Hey, Ben.” He sounded pensive. “About that footage…”</p><p>The episode wasn’t scheduled to air for another month. “What about it?”</p><p>A drawn out, hoarse laugh cut through the phone. “Yeah, the executive producers of <em>Antique Appraisals</em> are asking us to restore --”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“-- since phone clips of it are already circulating --”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“-- they’re thinking it’s good publicity --”</p><p>“Fuck. No,” Ben said. “I don’t care what people think about me, but we’re talking about Rey. She’s not a public figure and I don’t want her made into a joke.”</p><p>“What joke, Ben? People love her. Her reaction was pure joy and people see it,” Poe said. “We don’t get this many phone calls during Pledge Week and the damn show hasn’t aired yet. If it does without that kiss, people will riot.”</p><p>“No they won’t.” Ben rubbed the bridge of his nose, but the pain seared through his head anyway. He hadn’t wanted to drive down for the event, yet had he stayed home he’d have never met Rey, or learned the fate of the seascape. If this “happy accident” could spin into good fortune for either or both of them, fine, but he cared enough about Rey to want her safe.</p><p>“You know what, it’s not up to me,” he said. “I know Rey signed an agreement consenting to the use of her likeness. As a friend, Poe, I’m asking you to think hard about any possible consequences should you restore that kiss.”</p><p>“Ben,” Poe said, “have you seen it?”</p><p>“It’s difficult to miss. The Leia Organa social accounts are tagged constantly.”</p><p>“I’ll send you something. Then you can get back to me,” Poe said. “We don’t have to decide today.” He rang off.</p><p>About a minute later, his phone pinged an email from Poe. Ben clicked through the media clip attachment and opened the excerpt of raw video from the appraisal. This being the official footage, the shot was closer and showed Ben in profile as he spoke to Rey.</p><p>His eye went first to Rey’s smile, made all the more dazzling with the knowledge she had a genuine Organa. Then it drifted to the turquoise pendant. His mother’s favorite stone. Dad regaled her with many pieces throughout their marriage, and Ben still had some tucked away.</p><p>Definitely not a coincidence.</p><p>
  <em>At their highest, her paintings have gone for ten thousand at auction. If you were to sell this, based on what I’ve just told you, I believe you could triple that amount.</em>
</p><p><em>That is amazing! </em>She turned supernova here.</p><p>
  <em>You’re wel --</em>
</p><p>Boom.</p><p>He rewound and watched again, and again. He’d experienced this moment firsthand, yet watching it added a new dimension to their kiss. Minor details bloomed large in his mind. The seconds-long pause before he parted his lips over hers, the slight drift of Rey’s fingers from his cheekbone down to his jaw. Like a caress. How had he missed that before?</p><p>Probably drunk on cotton candy.</p><p>He cleared the video and tried to get back to work, but Rey consumed his thoughts. She’d sent over a list of free days for her first lesson and he was hesitant to commit to one. Not that he intended to renege on the bet, but he realized he was falling for her. They hadn’t known each other for long, but the physical attraction was there. Was it enough?</p><p>Beyond their shared love for his mother and her work, what else stood to forge a relationship? Ben swore to refrain from getting serious with anybody until the finances were settled; it frightened him that he might die old and alone.</p><p>“Benjamin?” called out a familiar voice from the empty lobby of the three-room office. “I brought your lunch.”</p><p>He hadn’t packed one today. All week, he’d been either too keyed up or too upset to eat. And how had Aunt Maz gotten through the locked door? “Back here.” He cleared space on his desk; Aunt Maz never popped in for “only a minute.”</p><p>“No, you come out here. Never eat lunch at your desk, it’s an unhealthy habit.”</p><p>Maz… With a heavy sigh he lifted himself up and lumbered into the lobby. Aunt Maz, a formidable figure despite barely brushing five feet in her stockings, wore a blue paisley print dress and matching Crocs. A blue beret covered her tight curls, and her wide-rimmed, tinted glasses and gemstone jewelry gave her the look of somebody ready to read your tarot cards. Ben took a spot next to her on the sofa while she unwrapped a deli sandwich and uncapped a Styrofoam cup of soup.</p><p>Her long red fingernails scratched his cheeks when she drew him closer to kiss his forehead. “Why have you not shaved?”</p><p>“I’m well, Aunt Maz. How are you?”</p><p>“A haircut wouldn’t hurt, either,” she said, and looked around the gray, uncarpeted room. “And take some more of your mother’s paintings out of storage, bring some color to this room. How are you supposed to teach art to your lady friend with nothing to inspire you?”</p><p>“I will.” Ben made a show of biting into the Reuben.</p><p>Maz tilted her face toward the ceiling. “Do you hear that, Leia? He’s humoring me. He’s turned your lovely studio gray as his poor soul.”</p><p>Ben hated when she did this. “She can’t hear you, Aunt Maz.”</p><p>“Maybe your father has her occupied for the moment.” She fixed him with a wicked smile.</p><p>“I will get the pictures,” he told her. “We haven’t nailed down a time yet. No point in making the trip until we do.”</p><p>The old woman let a soft oath escape and clucked her disappointment. “When you do nail down a time,” she said, “I will return and help make this place presentable again. Your mother would be scandalized to see this.”</p><p>“You know why it’s like this.” In more lucrative times, they’d used several more rooms in the building’s space, but he ceded some to other businesses to keep costs down, keeping mainly his office and the one his mother used for painting. They once had an actual staff, an office manager and customer service reps, and their own warehouse for supplies. Now Ben outsourced most tasks, used a fulfillment service to drop-ship merch, and handled everything else himself. This “lobby” was formerly storage, and as he rarely entertained visitors here he saw no need for aesthetics.</p><p>It humbled him at first, but he got the work done. To the outside world, it hadn’t made much of a difference. Aunt Maz gave a good point, nonetheless. Rey was probably expecting a shrine to his mother.</p><p>He forewent the spoon and sipped the onion soup directly from the cup. “I didn’t know you still had a key,” he said.</p><p>“I don’t.”</p><p>"The door was locked."</p><p>"Was it?"</p><p>Ben set down the soup and stared. </p><p>Maz tapped on her phone. “Today is Thursday. I want you to free up your afternoon tomorrow for lunch with Phasma Scyre at Blue Canary. You will shave and wear a tie.” The phone disappeared up a flowing sleeve. “You will not brood and you will behave like a gentleman and hear her out completely. You will also not make your decision right there; this is too important for a knee-jerk reaction.”</p><p>“If I’m a good boy can I have ice cream afterward?”</p><p>Maz did not react. Maz could win every card tournament imaginable with that face.</p><p>Ben nodded his understanding of her instructions. “I have only one stipulation, Aunt Maz. I want you there, too. I don’t know this woman, and I would prefer to have a buffer in the event conversation gets tense.”</p><p>“What you’re looking for is an escape hatch, Benjamin,” said Maz. “This woman is on your side. You will do fine on your own. You are a capable businessman.”</p><p>“I’m an impostor.”</p><p>She took one of his hands and nearly crushed the bones in her grip. “You need to remember this one thing, Benjamin.”</p><p><em>Here it comes.</em> Ben towered over this woman, could bench press her. Yet every time she spoke those words she unintentionally reduced him to tears. Perhaps she believed one day he’d believe her.</p><p>“None of this is your fault.”</p><p>“Maz…”</p><p>Maz’s lip twitched. He knew better than to interrupt. “Your father had the head for business. Your mother was the creative force. You were their inspiration,” she said.</p><p>Where Ben typically cut in with an argument, he stayed silent. He was tired of reciting the same old lines, and reminding Maz that his too trusting nature of people brought in to help manage his mother’s legacy nearly cost him everything. Disreputable people, he’d come to discover, who were responsible for his financial straits.</p><p>“It’s all on me,” he said.</p><p>“Not exactly,” Maz said. “You know your mother was inconsolable when Han died. People took advantage of that, and you were away at school. Even I had trouble reaching her, and your mother never wanted to worry you.”</p><p>Ben nodded. Those same people had also charmed him, then robbed him blind. It was one reason Maz had come out of retirement to helicopter over him.</p><p>“I did not come here to upset you, Benjamin.” She pulled out a large chocolate chip cookie from the lunch bag. “Finish your lunch, and we’ll split this while you tell me more about this new friend. I love how she lights up your face.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>TGI Thursday...my Friday.</em> Rey finished her last appointment for the day, handing her client a bottle of water and leaving her in the massage room to dress. “Amilyn will take care of you up front. Have a great weekend,” she said.</p>
<p>The older woman clutched the towel to her chest and sat up on the table. “How about you, Rey?” she asked. “Big weekend coming up with anyone special?”</p>
<p>Clients loved fishing for gossip lately. Rey shrugged and backed out of the room. “Maybe,” she said with a smile. She hoped, in trying the coy tactic, some of these people might book a followup in hopes of hearing more. Her post-viral video surge in bookings was good for tips, but Amilyn advised her that none of those people had enrolled in a spa membership.</p>
<p>Not that Rey cared about that. If and when she set up her own place, she swore never to use that business model. She knew it wasn’t popular at work, too. Amilyn wanted to defect to her studio as her front desk receptionist, when she opened it.</p>
<p>In the employee lounge, Rey washed up and relaxed in a chair with a ginger ale and her phone. She re-read her text chain with Ben, and checked the address he’d given her. Though she had Friday and Saturday off, they’d agreed to meet up Saturday morning for the lesson, after which they’d have lunch at one of the taverns in Colonial Williamsburg. She hoped to extend the day as long as possible, and had a surprise for Ben on standby to help it along.</p>
<p>Catching up on her other texts, she saw Rose sent yet another news video. This one provided the oft-seen clip of her jumping Ben on <em>Antique Appraisals</em>, with more details on Rey’s estate sale find. “The Norfolk edition of <em>Antique Appraisals</em> is scheduled to debut next month,” reported the voice over. “It is not yet determined if footage of the kiss will be included in the episode.”</p>
<p>“Eh,” she said aloud. Poe had texted her earlier about that. She was aware the showrunners wanted the kiss to stay for their own marketing purposes. She refrained from answering, mainly because of work but she wanted to first assure Ben in person she was okay with it.</p>
<p>For now, she concentrated on Saturday. Ben let her know he’d provide the supplies. She needed only to wear comfortable clothing and come with an open mind. Driving home, she pondered what scene they would attempt. She wouldn’t mind reproducing the seascape if Ben was willing.</p>
<p>The apartment she shared with Rose was located in an alley in the Old Beach neighborhood. It was actually a large mother-in-law cottage that had been expanded to accommodate roommates or a married couple. She and Rose had lucked out on finding it two years ago while looking for an affordable place to share.</p>
<p>“Excuse me,” called out a voice as she got out of her car. Rey looked up to a familiar figure walking up the narrow avenue toward her. The young woman was one of Mon Mothma’s daughters, and she looked pissed.</p>
<p><em>Oh, dear.</em> Rey swallowed and moved around her car to put it in between them. Ben had mentioned his concerns about the viral videos causing her trouble, and here his prediction may be coming true.</p>
<p>“Can I help you?” she asked the woman.</p>
<p>“You sure as shit can.” The woman stopped just outside the property line. Smart move; Rey wouldn’t be able to claim trespassing or assault. “You have something valuable that belongs to my family.”</p>
<p>“I don’t,” Rey said.</p>
<p>“Don’t give me that. I saw the video, and I remember you from Mom’s estate sale. That was her Leia Organa painting and you took it.”</p>
<p>“I bought it.” Mrs. Mothma’s family had used a service to facilitate the sale, and Rey asked for a receipt. She wanted proof of purchase in the event the painting turned out to be genuine. “You have a problem with it, you take it up with your estate management company.”</p>
<p>Rey stormed toward her apartment. Mrs. Mothma’s daughter yelled after her. “We’re calling our lawyer!”</p>
<p>“Tell them I said hi!” Rey slammed her door and secured the chain. Her hands shook and she let out a loud sob. Surely Mon Mothma’s heirs had no claim on the painting? All sales were final. What argument could a lawyer make to convince a judge to order her to return the painting? She couldn’t afford to hire one herself.</p>
<p>Her night was ruined. Rose was off work tomorrow, so she’d gone out with Armitage. Rey wasn’t sure she’d be back to sleep, so that line of support was gone.</p>
<p><em>Ben</em>. Rey dashed into her bedroom to change, dialing Ben’s number on the way. His warm greeting assuaged her nerves, but only for a few seconds.</p>
<p>“Ben, I’m scared,” she said, and the story spilled out in a rapid, cracking voice. “Can they really take it from me?”</p>
<p>“Rey, please calm down. Please.” Ben kept his words slow, his voice soothing and quiet. He asked her to take deep breaths, and she sat on her bed in her underwear, eyes closed and centering on him. Eventually a sense of peace washed over her, but she feared opening her eyes and coming back to a potential hard truth.</p>
<p>“You said you have a receipt of the sale. Is it in a safe place?”</p>
<p>“I have a fire box for important papers,” Rey said. “It’s in there.”</p>
<p>“Good. That should be all you need to prove ownership. Whatever estate management company they used, they’ll likely have to accept responsibility for this. It’s apparent somebody wasn’t doing their homework during inventory,” he said.</p>
<p>“Has this ever happened with your mother’s work before?”</p>
<p>“Not that I recall,” Ben said. “Usually the disputes are over authenticity. Rey, I’m not a lawyer and can’t advise you, but legally you should be in the right.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t see this woman, Ben. They’re going to sue me.”</p>
<p>“Hopefully it won’t come to that. A lawyer worth their salt will tell them so. Now,” Ben said, “what can I do to make you feel better?”</p>
<p>Rey padded to her doorway, looking out at the seascape over her sofa. “Ben, I want to bring you the painting. Will you keep it for me until this is resolved? I-I think it would be safer with you.”</p>
<p>“Of course. Wrap it up like you did when you came to the antique show, and we’ll put it in storage with the rest of Mom’s works when you come Saturday. Bring the receipt, too. Let’s keep everything together.”</p>
<p>“Ben, I’m afraid to wait that long. Can I bring it tonight?” she asked.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>He damn near held his breath for the next hour and a half.</p>
<p>He’d offered to spring for a rideshare to drive Rey to Williamsburg. She’d sounded so distressed on the phone, and he worried about the drive through the bridge-tunnel and heavy interstate traffic, especially in places under perpetual construction. Rey insisted on driving, though, leaving him to trust her good judgement. He agreed, with the condition that she stay over, since late night traffic back to the Southside of Hampton Roads was just as unpredictable. He’d take the couch tonight.</p>
<p>In need of comfort himself, he called Maz and relayed the story. “May I make a suggestion?” she asked him. Always there with good advice, Maz’s words brought him back to earth and he thanked her. By the time Rey arrived, everything would be ready.</p>
<p>Closer to her ETA, Ben took a bottle of Coke out on the stoop in front of his apartment and waited. The sun had set and he watched the nearby lampposts sizzle on one by one. The sky had become a cloudless bluish gray when Rey pulled her car into the guest spot next to his.</p>
<p>Ben was over to the driver’s side in three long strides and greeted her with a tight hug. She was trembling still, so he rubbed one hand along her back until he sensed her calm down. “Everything is going to be fine,” he whispered in her ear. “Nobody will take that painting from you, okay?” Not even him.</p>
<p>“Am I silly to freak out like this?” Rey asked.</p>
<p>“No. Somebody threatened you, and you didn’t take it lightly. I’m glad you called me.” Ben held onto a surge of pride that he was capable of helping her, too. He patted her back and broke free. “Where’s the painting?”</p>
<p>Rey retrieved it from the passenger seat and held it in her lap as Ben drove in his car to the storage facility, located outside of the city limits. It wasn’t commercial self-storage, but a rented concrete building one might easily miss while driving someplace else. Ben parked out of sight and led Rey to a single steel door.</p>
<p>“Are all of Leia’s paintings in here?” asked Rey as Ben switched on the lights. The vast space illuminated to reveal not only multiple wooden storage racks holding artwork but a cluster of large containers toward the back.</p>
<p>“All the ones I own, rather the foundation owns,” he said. His mother’s personal items, what he hadn’t sold, stayed here as well. “Those containers hold the master tapes of every <em>Painting Joy</em> episode,” he added, “and I keep some of her wardrobe here -- the more signature outfits she wore.”</p>
<p>The facility was utilitarian, yet Rey stepped deeper inside with an air of reverence, like walking into a church. “This is amazing,” she said. “So much history in one place. It all ought to be in a museum.”</p>
<p>“That’s the hope.”</p>
<p>Rey whirled around to face him. “When’s the grand opening? I’ll be there.”</p>
<p>He smiled at her enthusiasm. “I’ll tell it later. First,” he took an envelope from his back pocket. “Do you have the receipt? Let’s find a safe place to put that.”</p>
<p>Ben found a vacant slot in one of the racks and made a note on his phone of the painting’s location. He kept a spreadsheet inventory of all the paintings here; each rack slot had a number for simple access. It felt good to place the seascape here, even if temporarily.</p>
<p>“When you come to collect, you’ll take this with you.” He pulled a folded paper from the envelope. “It’s a certificate of authenticity for the painting, that I’ve signed, in the event you do decide to sell. My mother usually printed these when she gave away works, and with so many fakes circulating it’s important to have this.” He put Rey’s receipt with it and tucked the envelope into the towel wrapped around the canvas.</p>
<p>That being the case, Mon Mothma should have had one, unless it got lost. “Ben, if I sell it, I want to offer it to you first,” Rey said. “I really don’t want to, though. I love it so much, but…”</p>
<p>He held out his arms and she fell in for another hug. Talk of money rarely amounted to good, and Rey had endured enough for one day. “We’re going to enjoy ourselves for the rest of the evening, okay?” So nice to hold her so close, too. Her trembling began to transfer to him.</p>
<p>“We’re moving up your first lesson,” he told her. “The studio isn’t far from here.”</p>
<p>Rey let out a sigh; a happier sound for once. “Ben, I don’t know if I can paint a straight line right now, much less a whole forest.”</p>
<p>“Rey, it’s fine,” Ben said. “My mother never painted a straight line in her life.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>2/15/21: A two-chapter update today. Thanks for your kudos and kind words. <br/>Content notes: mention of birth control</p>
<p>While you wait for more, I dropped two one-shots on Valentine's Day for a Reylo exchange. Both are E, contemporary AU. Hope you like them.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ben warned her about the unpretentious condition of the foundation offices. “I’m the only one in here anymore. It’s always been a disorganized space, and much of what used to be here is in storage,” he said, unlocking the frosted glass door. Rey cared not one bit. She was about to see where Leia produced her template works. Ben had mentioned he’d left that room intact.</p>
<p>She gasped when he flipped the switch to the front lobby. “Ben, you’re so modest. Look at all this!”</p>
<p>Ben looked, and to her his face registered the same level of surprise she no doubt expressed. Several Leia Organa landscapes -- ten by Rey’s count -- adorned the walls. It looked as though they were arranged in a specific order, with each wall representing the colors of a specific season.</p>
<p>Spread out on the coffee table by the sofa was their dinner, a pair of Styrofoam boxes flanked by two dark ceramic plates, forks and chopsticks. A Thermos with two small cups stood off to one side.</p>
<p>“Maz,” Ben muttered, shaking his head.</p>
<p>Rey moved close to a trio of frost-covered winter scenes and let her gaze pan around to view the lush greenery of spring, the summer beaches, and the warm hues of autumn forests. “I don’t recognize any of these,” she said.</p>
<p>“These aren’t show paintings, nor were they done for any of the manuals. Mom made these for her personal assistant. My unofficial aunt, Maz Kanata.” Ben removed a summer painting depicting a bluish green sea in the background of a dune filled with sea oats and showed Rey the back where Leia had written her friend a personal note. “Over an entire decade, she created one for Maz’s birthday.”</p>
<p>“How sweet.”</p>
<p>Ben smiled and returned the painting. “She doesn’t have children, and she’s said she’s willing them to me. I suppose this is a loan.”</p>
<p>“That would make a nice museum exhibit, private gifts created by Leia Organa,” said Rey.</p>
<p>Ben’s smile dropped a bit and his eyes took on a hint of melancholy. Message received. Any mention of a museum inspired a slight chill, and Rey decided not to speak of it again unless Ben brought up the subject.</p>
<p>“I can’t take credit for dinner, either. Maz is always thorough, but I hope there’s nothing here you can’t eat.” They sat down and Ben lifted both lids to reveal a colorful assortment of sashimi and nigiri, which Rey loved. She poured the green tea while Ben divvied up the various slices of fish. Everything was delicious, fresh. Rey sat cross-legged on the couch while he stretched his legs out, deftly handling the chopsticks.</p>
<p>“Tell me about your neighbor, the one who passed,” he said. “I’m hoping she’s nothing like her kids.”</p>
<p>“She wasn’t. She was such a nice lady. We were waving neighbors,” Rey said. “Every day she’d sit out on her screened-in porch and I’d wave and chat a bit while on my walks.” Then one day she wasn’t sitting there. Rey learned from another neighborhood that she’d died quietly in her sleep.</p>
<p>“You learn quite a bit about people from their homes,” Rey said. “Mrs. Mothma loved the arts. Her house was full of books and photographs --”</p>
<p>Ben’s chopsticks dropped to his plate. “What was her name?”</p>
<p>“Mon Mothma. Did you know her? Maybe your mother did.”</p>
<p>Ben got out his phone for a quick search. “Why is that name familiar? Here we go.” Ben found an obituary from her hometown newspaper in Pennsylvania, which read that she’d retired after thirty years from a PBS station. “We were living in the Lehigh Valley when we taped that lost episode. Just before we moved to Virginia.”</p>
<p>“There you go.” Rey finished the last of her salmon. “Maybe the painting was a parting gift when she retired.”</p>
<p>Ben shrugged, dipping a chunk of octopus into a puddle of soy sauce on his plate. “That,” he said, mouth full, “or she stole it.” He caught her reaction to that and added, “Wouldn’t be the first time. Mom often got calls saying her paintings disappeared from walls, and could she send replacements.”</p>
<p>“Did she?”</p>
<p>Ben smiled and downed his tea. “Of course.”</p>
<p>Of course, because Leia was awesome like that. “If that’s the case, maybe her kids are just like her. I mean, I didn’t know the woman well.”</p>
<p>“Well, you have no reason to worry. You are the owner of that seascape. I wouldn’t want it going to that woman’s daughter anyway; it’s clear she’s more interested in its monetary value.”</p>
<p>They continued dinner along a more light-hearted vein until all that remained were streaks of soy sauce and wasabi crumbs. Ben stacked the plates and tossed the containers. “Surely, Maz left us dessert,” he said, and grabbed a paper bag from a nearby desk. He peered inside and quickly rolled it up. “This ain’t it.” He dropped the bag in the chair behind the desk.</p>
<p>“Oh, well,” he added. “If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll get everything set up in the back.”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>Rey waited until he was gone, and leaned over the desk. Ben had practically mashed the bag into a brick. Quietly, she unrolled the brown paper and opened it for a peek. Inside was a box of condoms.</p>
<p><em>Oh my.</em> Rey restored the bag and smiled. Perhaps this was Aunt Maz’s idea of dessert.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <em>Condoms, Aunt Maz? Really?</em>
</p>
<p>Maz didn’t immediately respond to his text. Ben tore off the plastic wrap of a Leia Organa beginner’s kit and removed the lid. She pinged as he straightened the drop cloth on the floor.</p>
<p>
  <em>Safe sex is good sex, Benjamin.</em>
</p>
<p><em>I’ve known her a week</em>, he replied.<em> I don’t think we’re there, or if that’s where we’re headed.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Han proposed to Leia the day they met.</em>
</p>
<p>They probably didn’t fuck the day they met, Ben assumed. If they had...Ben put the thought out of his mind.</p>
<p>
  <em>Good night, Aunt Maz. Will call 2morrow.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I hope you put clean sheets on the bed.</em>
</p>
<p>He had, actually, once Rey agreed to stay. He was taking the couch.</p>
<p>The gee-dee couch with only his mother’s granny square crochet afghan to keep him warm.</p>
<p>He breezed through the setup and brought Rey into the makeshift studio. Her awed expression warmed his heart; she seemed to find magic in any ordinary room, and in a way he envied Rey her first experiences with Leia’s personal space. It made him realize how much he took for granted.</p>
<p>Ben handed her one of his father’s old shirts, which was stained with paint. “Mom would wear his older shirts as smocks, especially after he died,” he explained. He watched Rey put it on backwards and he fastened one button to keep it in place. “I suppose it kept his memory close.”</p>
<p>“That sounds romantic.”</p>
<p>They were. Ben had never seen them argue. “Let’s get to work,” he said, and showed her the kit with all the paints and brushes used on the show, then the easel setup. “Over here is where we’ll clean the brushes.” He pointed to the slim bucket of linseed oil, the alternative to turpentine his mother favored, and gave her a large, clear palette.</p>
<p>“If you’ll put the paint on, I’ll prime the canvas,” he offered. He already had a standard paintbrush in hand for that purpose.</p>
<p>Rey got to work, first selecting the tube of Alizarin Crimson. “I’m worried that white primer will dry up before I finish.”</p>
<p>“You’ll be fine. Don’t make me quote my mother verbatim. I could do that all day.” He watched her enjoy the process of squeezing large blobs of color on the round, acrylic board. She clutched each tube around the middle rather than starting at the end and working her fingers upward. It almost looked like she might dip in her fingers and use them in lieu of brushes.</p>
<p>How long had it been since he approached anything with such enthusiasm?</p>
<p>“All set? Let’s do it.” Ben began the lesson with a feeling he needed it more than Rey.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a note: not a professional masseuse. All inaccuracies are my own.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two hours never flew so fast. Rey had difficulty believing it when Ben’s watch alarm signaled the end of the lesson. “Brushes down,” he intoned like a schoolteacher, and they stood together to admire her canvas of a mottled blue and gray sky against a mountain range that looked too smooth in places to be believed.</p><p>“Not bad for your first time,” Ben said and handed her a touch-up pen. “How about you sign it?”</p><p>“How about we re-prime the canvas for the next lesson?” she asked, laughing. “Holy cow, this is bad.”</p><p>“Don’t beat yourself up. For a beginner, this is good,” Ben said. “You followed all the directions, and you didn’t get frustrated.”</p><p><em>I had a good teacher.</em> Indeed, Ben had used the same cadence of voice as his mother -- slow and calm...only he sounded way sexier.</p><p>“Let’s do this. We’ll leave it here, and if you still hate it I’ll re-prime it for lesson two.” Ben helped her out of the shirt smock and started putting away the supplies. “Though, Mom used to advise her students to keep at least one early work for comparison. It’s a good way to show yourself how much progress you make.”</p><p>Rey helped with cleanup. “Your mother taught actual classes?”</p><p>“When she was younger, before the show.” Ben nodded. “I’m too little to remember, but she had stories. She considered starting up again after <em>Painting Joy</em> wrapped, but I think losing Dad sapped her of any desire to work.” He took her palette and placed it in a large work sink in the corner. “We should probably clean this stuff better, and I’m setting a bad example by skipping it, but I’d really like to get home. I got that lunch meeting I was telling you about.”</p><p>“Sure.” Rey was anxious for more alone time, too. Especially with what she had planned. “What about the plates up front?” she asked.</p><p>Ben shook his head. “Those are Maz’s, so I’ll leave those for Maz. I’ve no doubt the next time I come here they’ll be gone, along with the paintings.” He stood by the door as she left. “Though how she gets in and out without a key mystifies me.”</p><p>“There’s an explanation for everything, unless she’s one of those fairy aunt godmothers,” Rey joked.</p><p>“Wouldn’t surprise me. That’s the best explanation yet.”</p><p>Ben doused the lights and locked up. Rey followed him out, noticing he’d taken the paper bag.</p><p>***</p><p>As they pulled into his space, Rey took her key fob out and popped her trunk.</p><p>“Am I supposed to get in?” he asked.</p><p>“I brought a thank you gift, for helping hide my painting.”</p><p>Ben followed her to her car, intrigued when she pulled out a large folding table. “I already have awkward-looking furniture, but thanks anyway.”</p><p>Rey waved off his offer to carry it. She took out two large shoulder bags, locked the car, and let him carry one. “I bought this when I used to do house calls,” she said. “You’re getting a massage tonight, mister.”</p><p><em>Wait, what?</em> The news spiked his heartbeat. “Am I?” Further words failed him. Why risk reducing himself to a stuttering jackass? Instead he took a deep breath, said thank you, and walked ahead to get the door open.</p><p>Rey surveyed the scant living area and asked, “How big is your bedroom?”</p><p>“No bigger, and there’s more stuff to trip over.” Ben set the heavy bag he carried on the couch. It bore the logo of the massotherapy school Rey had attended.</p><p>“This will work, but first...” Rey leaned the folded table against the couch and faced him. “Show it to me.”</p><p>Ben looked at her and slowly moved a hand to his fly.</p><p>“The <em>seascape</em>, you jackass!” She laughed.</p><p>“Right.” He waved her to the bedroom, and inside she moved as close to the bed as possible.</p><p>“Ben, it looks almost exactly like mine. I mean, your mother’s.” She turned to him, her eyes wide. “You were eleven?”</p><p>“I was eleven,” he said. Close his eyes and concentrate, and he’d smell the paints mixed with his mother’s perfume. “Bear in mind, I’ve been at this since I was five, so you’re looking at six years of practice.”</p><p>“Innate talent. You clearly inherited it.” She fixed on the painting again. “If not for the signatures I bet you could switch them and nobody would know.”</p><p>He wondered if he should have brought the Leia original inside before going to storage, for a true comparison. Rey had emerged from her car so shaken, though. He’d put easing her mind at top priority, and this seemed to cheer her up more.</p><p>“How about that massage now?” Rey asked. With no coffee table to move, Rey assembled the table in the middle of the living room and checked its position to ensure she could move freely around it. The table was long, about six-feet-plus in length with thin wooden legs that gave Ben pause.</p><p>“Um,” Ben touched the faux leather cover of the two-inch mattress, “will this thing hold me? I’m not exactly petite.”</p><p>Rey demonstrated the table’s sturdiness by hopping on it. “It’s rated to hold up to four hundred and fifty pounds,” she said. “I’ve massaged people of all sizes on this without problems.”</p><p>“And you clean it afterward, right?”</p><p>Rey made a face and slid to the floor. She unzipped the bag on the couch. “Since I don’t know your towel situation, I brought my own. They are washed.” She slapped a large white cloth against his chest. “Do you have any allergies, skin sensitivities, or other olfactory concerns? I use fractionated coconut oil and will mix in scents on request.”</p><p>“No. I’m good with that.”</p><p>“Any preferences to scents?” She ran off a grocery list of her oil supply and Ben said to surprise him, but no lavender.</p><p>“I don’t want to smell like my grandmother,” he said.</p><p>Rey pointed to his room. “I’ll finish setting up here. Go strip down and come out with this towel around your waist.”</p><p>“All the way?” He twitched down below at the thought. Not that he had issues being naked in front of a woman, but usually she was as well. He kept those thoughts quiet.</p><p>Rey eyed him head to toe. “If you want to leave your underwear on, it’s fine. I’m guessing most of the tension is in your upper back and neck, so I’ll put more focus there,” she said. With a smile, she added, “You wanted a professional job, that’s what you’re getting.”</p><p>***</p><p>When Ben’s bedroom door opened, Rey had everything ready. His lighting system worked on a dimmer, so she set it low enough that she could still see her way around the room. Her phone, connected to a Bluetooth speaker, played a New Age music loop for added relaxation. She chose the bergamot to mix in with her massage oil, as many of her clients had remarked how the scent helped them to relax.</p><p>Ben hadn’t confided much about his work to her, but after their excursion to his office she came away with the impression that the business of keeping Leia Organa’s legacy alive wasn’t all happy little trees. Seemed a shame. He should experience more joy in work promoting a show that had <em>Joy</em> in the title.</p><p>Anyway, she’d come prepared for any reaction Ben might give during the massage. Her own reaction to Ben stripped with only a towel for covering...a different matter.</p><p>“Ready.”</p><p>She looked up and her jaw unhinged. Oh, what a gentle-looking beast. Rey took in his build -- the hard muscle lines, wide shoulders, narrowing waist -- and pinned her bottom lip under her teeth. She never viewed her job as sexual, she helped a person’s body feel better, but Ben obviously pushed her limits.</p><p>Luckily he appeared too self-conscious to realize she was staring. Rey recovered and patted the table. “Hop on.”</p><p>Ben stared at the long pad, brushing his fingers along the upholstery. “What’s wrong?” Rey asked. “I thought you wanted a massage.”</p><p>“Oh, I do,” he said. “I’m trying to figure out how to get on this thing without looking ridiculous.”</p><p>She smiled. “Tell you what. I’ll turn my back,” and she did just as he had at the show, “and you let me know when. I need you face down with the towel draped over your tush. It can’t be cinched.”</p><p>“Got it.”</p><p>Rey heard the towel snap and immediately surmised he’d removed it from his waist. Of course, there were no pictures under glass on the wall she faced to allow her a reflective view of naked Ben climbing on her table. <em>Professional, girl. Behave…</em></p><p>“Ready,” he said. Ben’s feet hung over the edge, and he was planted in the curved facial rest. His arms were folded in the hanging rest underneath his chin, but Rey tugged at one elbow. “Let’s put your arms at your sides first, let your hands curl naturally as you relax,” she said. “I’ll be working on those, too. Perfect.”</p><p>She dabbed a touch of the scent-infused oil on one hand for Ben to sample. The bergamot gave off a sharp orange aroma, one she hoped wouldn’t cloy Ben senses.</p><p>“S’nice,” he said and put his head back down.</p><p>“Okay. Let’s begin.”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>Holy mother of fuck…</em>
</p><p>This wasn’t a massage, this was attempted murder. With the idea of Rey massaging him, he thought at first he wouldn’t survive for becoming so aroused. Now he thought of how to distract her so he could tuck and roll and escape.</p><p>Thank the gods he’d lost that bet. A second one of these would put him in his grave. How could such a small person hammer on him like this?</p><p>“You holding up okay, champ?” Rey mashed her thumbs and palms into him, and grunted like it was leg day at the gym.</p><p>“I thought this was supposed to be fun.”<em> Ouch!</em></p><p>Rey kept up the pressure. “It wouldn’t be so bad if you weren’t a rock wall covered in skin. Ben, you are the tensest person I’ve had on this table, and I have Navy SEAL clients.”</p><p>“Art is a tense business.”<em> So is poverty.</em></p><p>“You need to drink more water, too,” she scolded.</p><p>“Who says I don’t?”</p><p>Rey paused in her torture. “Your body is saying it. I can smell the uric acid coming off you,” she said. “A massage isn’t just for working your muscles. It helps to release toxins, and if you had any more in you, you’d be a supervillain.”</p><p>No arguments there. Ben knew his diet hadn’t been the best lately. Even Aunt Maz, for all her mothering, struggled in her quest to improve him.</p><p>“What has you so wound up?” she asked. “Technically I am a therapist. Feel free to talk.”</p><p>“It’s kind of embarrassing.”</p><p>“More so than lying naked, ass up, in front of a woman who’s beaten you at Ms. Pac Man?” Rey finished with his back and started on his left arm. “It probably won’t be so bad the rest of the way.”</p><p><em>Good.</em> “There’s a lot people don’t know about my life since Mom died. Well, before that, too,” he began. As Rey worked on his arms and hands, then around to his feet and up his legs, the story came out with only short outbursts from the occasional <em>zing</em> from Rey hitting a tender spot.</p><p>He told her about his parents, and the freak illness that took his dad at a relatively young age. That information one could mine from Wikipedia, but his mother’s drawn-out mourning period was lesser known to the public. <em>Painting Joy</em> ended not because of declining viewer interest, but of Leia’s waning enthusiasm for it. Without Han, she seemed to wilt, and Ben suspected that hastened the illness that eventually claimed her.</p><p>He told her about all the unscrupulous people who circled his mother in her vulnerable state, who gained her confidence and siphoned her money into bad investments and gimmicks. They talked her into licensing her image and name for merch as one would a cartoon character, only Leia saw little of the profits thanks to contracts that favored others. Ben told Rey of how he’d exhausted his own money for the legal fight to get most of those rights back.</p><p>Through it all, he managed to hold on to the most valuable assets of his mother’s legacy -- the episode masters and a few hundred paintings from the show. Leia had dreamed of a museum, and Ben had promised on her deathbed to finish her work. With every passing year, though, it seemed less likely. The estate wasn’t making enough yet for him to catch up.</p><p>Ben kept his head in the facial cushion as he talked. “This person I’m supposed to meet tomorrow wants to option Mom’s story for a documentary. Even if one doesn’t get made, if I can at least get some money out of it I have a chance. Then, when the rights expire I can negotiate with somebody else..”</p><p>Rey was quiet. Ben also noticed she wasn’t touching him anymore. He sensed movement and in his peripheral vision saw Rey’s loose slacks in front of him.</p><p>Rey crouched to eye level, lifting his face with hands sticky with coconut and bergamot oil. They gazed into each other’s eyes for a few seconds before she pinned him with a cotton candy kiss.</p><p>Ben moved his hands to cup her face to prolong it. Rey seemed to taste sweeter this time around; maybe the residual scents of the massage oil played with his senses, but he swore to buy her a case of that lip balm if he thought she might stick around a while.</p><p>“Ben,” she said after they tapered off, “I would love to sleep with you in your bed tonight.”</p><p>“Should have thought of that before you decided to knead me like challah dough.” Ben tried to move and cringed. “Unless you want to do all the work tonight.”</p><p>“I don’t mean sex, Ben. I’m fine to wait on that.” Rey straightened and grabbed a wet towel. “As I understand it from other clients, though, tomorrow morning may be a different story.”</p><p>Was she kidding? He’d be lucky to crawl out of bed in time for his lunch appointment. “If you can get me off this table, you can do whatever you want to me,” he said. His entire body screamed out in pain, perhaps to his benefit. Rey had given him his final wake up call -- he was of no use to his mother’s legacy if he neglected his physical and mental health.</p><p>Rey finished her job with a gentle cranial massage, which he liked best, and helped him turn over on the table, careful not to let the towel slip off. She lifted the back so that he reclined, and produced a plastic bottle of water from her bag. “Drink it all,” she said. “It’s not cold. You don’t need it cold because that’s a shock to the system.”</p><p>“I’m gonna get up in the middle of the night,” he warned.</p><p>Rey glared at him. “Good. Flush all the bad stuff out.” She picked up her other bag. “I’m going to give you a few minutes alone. Just relax and I’ll be back to help you to bed.”</p><p>“Yes, dear.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rey opted for modesty in terms of sleepwear. When she emerged from Ben’s bathroom in a dark t-shirt and sweatpants, she found him dozing on the table with the empty bottle rolled underneath. Usually her clients left the studio with a spring to their steps, and she surmised this session had taken a substantial amount of weight from Ben’s body and mind.</p>
<p>“I’m such a lightweight,” he murmured as she helped him down. He’d kept his boxer briefs on and didn’t seem to mind the towel falling to the ground. This wasn’t a sexual moment, just one friend helping the other.</p>
<p>“You’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Next massage will go easier now that you know how to take care of yourself.”</p>
<p>He arched an eyebrow at her. “You don’t have to honor a bet I lost.”</p>
<p>“You deserve it, Ben. You’ve been an incredible help.” She meant it. His support for her wanting to keep her purchase touched her heart, especially since he could have used the situation to his advantage. He also didn’t have to open up to her about his struggles, and his choosing to do so said much about his trust in her.</p>
<p>She vowed not to let him down, as many others had.</p>
<p>Rey got Ben into bed; he’d refused clothes, and wanted to lie down. He lay on his back and yawned, and she darkened the room before slipping in beside him. She thought it might feel awkward to sleep next to somebody, given that it had been a few years since her last serious relationship. She’d dated here and there since, but none of them got further than second base.</p>
<p>Was this a relationship? Rey liked the idea of one, and hoped Ben would realize she was here for him, and not because of who his mother was.</p>
<p>Ben moved his arm around her and pulled her close. Rey lay sideways with her head in the crook of his arm, and draped hers around his middle. She could get used to this.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry you’ll be on your own for most of the morning,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’ll cut work short after that lunch.”</p>
<p>“You sure?”</p>
<p>Ben splayed his fingers on her hip. “I don’t answer to anybody. Except maybe Aunt Maz.”</p>
<p>“Goodnight, Ben.” They kissed and she fell easily into sleep after him. Safe and content.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>True to his prediction, he opened his eyes at four in the blessed fucking morning with a bladder close to bursting. Relieving himself didn’t bring back sleep, and for at least ten minutes he sat in his desk chair with his feet propped on the foot of the bed, watching Rey.</p>
<p>How did this happen? Not just Rey in his bed, but everything leading up to it? Aunt Maz would suggest some divine, cosmic force had shuffled the stars so that Rey’s aligned with that of the seascape’s previous owner, and consequently shifted her closer to him. Same with Poe’s presence. He’d convinced Ben to come down to Norfolk.</p>
<p>Did a higher power exist? Maybe, but Ben was convinced he/they/it had a strange sense of humor.</p>
<p>Ben turned on his phone and called up his messenger app. Poe’s light was on; his friend kept odd hours.</p>
<p>
  <em>You up?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>always...public tv never sleeps</em>
</p>
<p>Ben wished for his friend’s energy. <em>About that kiss footage, if Rey’s fine with it so am I.</em></p>
<p>Thumbs up emoji, then,<em> y u up now</em></p>
<p><em>Can’t sleep. Interesting day, will tell later.</em> He paused a moment, then, <em>Rey is here.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>why ru talking 2 me then?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>She’s asleep.</em>
</p>
<p>Poe went radio silent for about a minute, with the speech bubble rising and falling. Finally,<em> looks like u owe me again bro</em></p>
<p>“Yep,” Ben said quietly.</p>
<p><em>dibs on best man,</em> Poe added. <em>wont hire that stripper 4 ur party</em></p>
<p><em>TTYL</em>, texted Ben, and set his phone on the desk. With sleep nowhere close to his senses, he reached for his sketchbook and adjusted the flashlight function on his phone so it shone on a fresh page. The urge to draw Rey as she slept came and passed. She made for a gorgeous picture lying there, eyes closed with the hint of a smile, but he decided she ought to consent to such a private moment. He’d dodged a bullet with that first drawing, happy she’d been flattered by it.</p>
<p>Instead he called up a happier memory, and spent the next hour or so scratching his pencil to paper as sunrise slowly filtered through the windows into the room.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Rey woke to the fading scent of bergamot on the sheets. She opened her eyes to find Ben at his dresser, looking sharp in business attire and checking his face in the mirror.</p>
<p>“You look great,” she said. “Don’t change a thing.”</p>
<p>He turned and smiled, and put a knee on the bed as he leaned down to kiss her. She liked that he was comfortable enough for so intimate a gesture. “Please talk me out of this,” he said.</p>
<p>“This is a big deal. The documentary, your museum.”</p>
<p>Ben sat next to her as she raised herself to his eye level. “I’m worried. I don’t want this to be another person trying to screw me or my mother’s estate out of something.”</p>
<p>“It’s not like you have to sign anything today, right? Hear them out,” she said. “I know jack about entertainment contracts, but I know somebody who does…” She bit her lip. “An ex, actually.”</p>
<p>He seemed unfazed by that. “We’ll see.” He kissed her again. “We’ll do something nice for dinner. Think you’ll be up for another lesson tonight?”</p>
<p>Always. After Ben left for work, Rey showered and dressed. His sketchbook on his desk was open, and Rey moved closer to see a drawing of his parents, depicted in younger days. Leia wore a ponytail, peasant blouse and dungarees. Ben’s dad struck a dashing figure in a leather jacket. Ben hadn’t completed his form yet.</p>
<p>Such amazing likenesses. Why wasn’t he doing a show of his own?</p>
<p>He’d offered her what little he had in the kitchen, which amounted to exactly that. She was browsing her food delivery apps for options when she heard the front door lock disengage, and the knob turned.</p>
<p>
  <em>Ben, I hope you didn’t chicken out.</em>
</p>
<p>In walked a tiny old woman in a pink turban and matching blouse, and denim coveralls with colorful butterfly appliques stitched down the legs. She carried a drink holder with two coffee cups and a white takeout bag. “Good morning, my dear,” she greeted Rey as if she were expected.</p>
<p>This could only be one person. Yet, Maz Kanata introduced herself and bade Rey to join her at a small dining table loaded with unopened mail and paperwork. The older woman gathered everything into a pile and swept it into a cloth tote bag she produced from a deep pocket.</p>
<p>“If anything is to be done around here, it’s up to me,” she muttered, but on facing Rey again her smile bloomed larger. “Let me look at you.” She raised fingers with long red nails to Rey’s face and tucked a few stray tendrils of hair behind her ears. The gesture was motherly, yet it froze Rey. This seemed like a test of sorts.</p>
<p>Ben’s Aunt Maz let out a happy sigh and lifted her head. “Leia, she is adorable,” she said, and turned toward breakfast.</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh-kay.</em>
</p>
<p>“I talk to Ben’s mother every day. It’s important that I keep her informed of her son’s well being,” she explained, and set a zucchini muffin in front Rey. Her favorite. Had Ben told her? Had she told Ben?</p>
<p>“I see. Does she...talk back?”</p>
<p>Maz started on her own muffin, picking it apart before eating. “Of course. And no, I don’t hear voices in my head. Leia responds in different ways. It may be in the form of a bird or butterfly that doesn’t immediately fly away when I come near it. Sometimes it’s a song I associate with her that comes on the radio. Subtle signs a person may easily miss if they’re not paying attention.”</p>
<p>“People like Ben,” Rey said. The coffee Maz brought her tasted the way she normally fixed it.</p>
<p>Maz shrugged. “He has a lot on his mind right now. Eventually that excuse will grow tiresome, however, and he will have to make important decisions,” he said. “It’s why I hope this lunch meeting goes well. It may be the turning point he needs, but…” Maz toasted Rey with her coffee, “I see he’s already turned a corner for the good.”</p>
<p>“Well, thanks.” Rey gave a nervous laugh. “But we haven’t known each other long.” Maz didn’t need to know they’d shared a bed last night.</p>
<p>“My dear, I saw those videos on the Internet. I’ve only seen a fated moment between two people like that only two other times in my life. One of them, of course, was the day I met my Chewie,” Maz said and sipped her coffee. “You can guess the other time.”</p>
<p>Ben’s parents. Fairy god-aunt indeed. This woman was about to sprout wings.</p>
<p>“You can tell fate from a ten-second phone video taken at a distance?” Not that Rey wanted to doubt Maz, but...come on.</p>
<p>“I admit I have the advantage,” Maz said and pointed toward Ben’s bedroom. “I’ve known that young man from birth, perhaps before then. I can read him like a book.” The woman pulled her phone from the pocket on her chest and showed Rey the video paused just before the kiss. The view presented Rey from the back with Ben smiling at her. “It’s in his eyes. I imagine if he sees things the way I do, he’d have known right away.”</p>
<p>Rey said nothing, but thought of the seascape, and how Ben had looked upon that. Could this be a residual reaction?</p>
<p>Maz was studying her. She put away her phone and resumed. “Anyway, while I still have you hostage,” she said with a smile, “let me tell you about Leia.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content notes: reference to a past relationship of Ben's</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Blue Canary was located in the Colonial Williamsburg district, and served a fusion of French and American cuisine. It wasn’t a place Ben frequented by virtue of cost. He rarely entertained via business lunches, anyway, but decided if the food was decent he might return with Rey.</p>
<p>He arrived on time, expecting also to be first. It surprised him when the hostess informed him that Ms. Scyre was already seated. So much for the myth of the late diva entrance. Ben followed the hostess through the entire restaurant, feeling conspicuous in his suit and tie amongst the more casual diners in shorts and jeans. As they neared their destination, he saw Phasma Scyre had created quite a buzz.</p>
<p>For as long as he and his mother had lived in the area, people recognized Leia but not so much him. He’d changed since his last <em>Painting Joy</em> appearance and rarely did television otherwise. Now, the clandestine questions floated around him on his way to the table. <em>Who’s that with Phasma? Is he an actor, too?</em></p>
<p>Phasma wore her blonde hair slicked back in a wet look, and a bright blue pantsuit accented by a sapphire choker. When she stood Ben nearly took a step back -- he’d forgotten they were almost the same height.</p>
<p>“Ben Solo, this is a great pleasure.” Phasma’s hand crushed his and shook hard. “Thank you so much for taking this time to speak with me.”</p>
<p>“Not at all,” he said as they sat. Service, no doubt due to Phasma’s presence, came swiftly. Ben stayed with water, remembering Rey’s admonishments, while Phasma ordered wine with lunch.</p>
<p>“People must be thinking I’m doing a movie here,” she said, leaning in to speak in a low voice. “It would be nice to say yes, in some respect.”</p>
<p>“It wouldn’t be the first one. A number of historical films have been filmed here and at Jamestown,” Ben said. “But maybe you could tell me what you had in mind for a documentary on my mother? Maz intimated that you are serious about this, do you have a plan?”</p>
<p>Phasma raised both eyebrows, looking surprised for a second. “Down to brass tacks. I like that. Most men I meet for negotiation lunches tend to spend the appetizer course fawning.”</p>
<p>They hadn’t ordered an appetizer, nor was Ben aware he needed to massage Phasma’s ego. She was trying to convince <em>him</em> to sign something. “I have to confess,” he said, “I’m not as familiar with your work as you are with my mother’s. I don’t get to the movies much.”</p>
<p>“I’m not insulted. I’m relieved in a way, considering all the nudity in my last two.” She reached into a large bag by her feet for a presentation folder. “Anyway, the working title I had in mind is <em>Portrait of Leia</em>. The entire treatment is there, along with a list of archival footage I wish to include, plus a list of people to be interviewed on film if and when this project gets off the ground. I’ve reached out to everybody there, and many have agreed to participate.”</p>
<p>Phasma’s smile disappeared. “I won’t pursue it further without your consent. May I call you Ben?”</p>
<p>Ben had his eyes on the first few pages of the white paper. He glanced at her and quirked up one side of his lip in a smile. Maz would have smacked him for it. “Of course.” He turned the page to the list of interviewees and saw his name at the top.</p>
<p>Phasma detected it. “You can’t expect a documentary about Leia Organa without her only child?”</p>
<p><em>Not unless you want to film a grown man crying</em>. “You ought to put Maz on this list. She is way more fascinating and knowledgeable.” He continued reading. Some of these people he knew personally. “Lando Calrissian,” he said. His dad’s best friend. He’d guested on <em>Painting Joy</em>.</p>
<p>“I took his class at The Ed Annex in New York, when I was doing a short run of <em>Chicago</em>.” They paused the conversation when their entrees arrived. “He has such amazing stories about your parents. He suggested the movie.”</p>
<p>“He would be a good source.” Reading further down, he saw Phasma had included a few PBS employees, other artists, and somebody from the Peabody Awards committee. Thankfully none of the people who cheated Leia or the estate were included.</p>
<p>Then he came to the last name on the list and drew the red flag. “My Uncle Luke? I haven’t spoken to him since I was a kid.” His mother never talked about him. As he understood it, they’d fallen out over some family issue. It might have involved his grandfather, whom he never met.</p>
<p>Phasma stabbed at her Niçoise salad. “I included him to get some perspective on your mother’s early life. He sounded rather nice on the phone.”</p>
<p>“You’ve spoken to him?” Ben thought, until this moment, the man probably had died.</p>
<p>“He hasn’t committed to anything, but I got the sense he is interested in reaching out to you,” she said, “to clear the air?”</p>
<p>Interesting. This was why he wanted Maz to chaperone. “May I ask, and I don’t mean to imply I’m greenlighting this, that you put a hold on Luke until I do some research first?”</p>
<p>“Definitely.” Phasma’s expression changed to concern. “I don’t intend this as a hard-hitting expose, Ben. It’s just --”</p>
<p>“I know,” he cut in. “Every good doc shows the ups and downs, and Mom had her share.” He perused the list of requested resources. A tour of the studio and specific episodes, including a few of his, topped the list.</p>
<p>“How do you know about the lost episode?” he asked, feeling uneasy. None of the viral videos making the rounds showed that footage, and <em>Antique Appraisals</em> was keeping it quiet. He never discussed that episode in public, either, not until the taping. And then, the story came out so easily as he stood there with Rey.</p>
<p>Phasma sipped her wine. “Lando told me,” she said, as though it were common knowledge. </p>
<p>Also on the list, Ben saw Phasma had asked for footage of the upcoming episode. “You’ll have to talk to Poe Dameron or the showrunners about that, but why include it?”</p>
<p>“I’ve been tracking down other <em>Antique Appraisals</em> episodes where your mother’s work was featured. I thought it would be nice to show them in a montage, of how your mother’s legacy lives on.” Phasma winked. “I can’t not include that young lady attacking you like that. That must have shocked the hell out of you.”</p>
<p>Ben thought of how Rey looked in his bed when he left her that morning. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>“I understand you have that way with women.”</p>
<p><em>Excuse me?</em> Ben set down his hamburger. “Why would you say that?”</p>
<p>Phasma reached into the bag and pulled out a manila envelope. “There is one more name I almost added to the interview list. I thought, if you saw it, you might balk. But I had to know.”</p>
<p>Ben felt his body temperature drop as he slid out the photograph, which revealed something he hadn’t seen in a very long time. His voice turned as cold as his hands. “Where did you get this?”</p>
<p>“From her.” Phasma pushed aside her salad plate and rested her elbows on the table. “You can keep that, it’s a copy.”</p>
<p>Ben slid it back into the envelope, he gaze fixed on Phasma in case another surprise appeared.</p>
<p>“She had a bit part in my last film,” Phasma said. “I had a few of the actors over in my trailer one night for drinks and she noticed my attempt at a Leia Organa painting. I bring my kit on location and paint during downtime. She told me she had a Ben Solo original.” She pointed to the envelope. “Not including that one.”</p>
<p>“I don’t see how this is relevant to a documentary about my mother’s life,” Ben said.</p>
<p>“You don’t think so?”</p>
<p>Ben searched her face for any hint of malice, but the woman expressed a genuine curiosity for a time in his life he’d tried to forget.</p>
<p>“Your mother painted beautiful nature scenery, but I believe if you look closer there’s a sensual subtext to her work,” Phasma said. “You watch enough of her show, you discover it’s an ongoing love story. The way she talks about your father as she paints...nearly every scene evokes a memory or moment with him.” She gestured to the envelope there. “What you did there, it speaks of how their great romance affected you.”</p>
<p>“It did, very much. This isn’t exactly romance, however.” Ben wanted to tear the envelope to shreds. “It’s clear she didn’t tell you the entire story. And if you’re thinking of using this or any aspect of my personal life in a film you can forget the whole thing.”</p>
<p>“Ben.”</p>
<p>He rose from his chair, the envelope wrinkling in his grip. He walked away from Phasma, away from a high six-figure offer to save his skin. And took with him the embarrassment he thought he’d left buried in the past.</p>
<p>“Ben!” Phasma called after him.</p>
<p>Ben kept walking.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>1. Blue Canary is based on an actual restaurant in Williamsburg. The name is taken from two restaurants in town.<br/>2. The Ed Annex is inspired by The Learning Annex in NYC.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maz had kept her entertained for much of the morning and early afternoon. She amazed Rey with her ability to create a filling lunch with Ben’s meager pantry options. Rey helped clean up, and afterward Maz left with a parting hug. “I’d love to stay and hear how Ben’s meeting transpired, but I sense he’ll want to be alone with you.”</p>
<p>“I hope I meet you again.” She and Ben hadn’t discussed the night’s plan, if he expected her to stay another night. She wouldn’t say no.</p>
<p>Maz’s wide smile confirmed it. Alone again, Rey checked on Rose, who also had today off.</p>
<p>“Did Ben send flowers to the house?” her roommate asked by way of greeting.</p>
<p>“Why would he? I’m in his apartment now.”</p>
<p>“I thought so. A man stopped by with a delivery for you. He wouldn’t let me sign for them,” Rose said. “When I asked, ‘Oh, are those from Ben?’ he said yes.”</p>
<p>Something cold tugged at Rey’s heart.</p>
<p>“Rey, I think the Mothmas are trying to serve you with papers.”</p>
<p><em>Fuck.</em> “Thank goodness I got the painting out of there. Look, Rose,” she said, her voice quaking, “let me know if you see them again? Hopefully they don’t know where I am.”</p>
<p>“They won’t hear it from me if they do.” Rose then mentioned she might ask Armitage over to keep her company, just in case. Rey told her she’d be back Sunday for work. That answered her earlier question, and she hoped Ben agreed to let her stay.</p>
<p>When he arrived home, it happened with a fierce hug as though assuring himself she was real. “Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked. “I take it the negotiations broke down.” She sympathized with him. The museum had surely moved out of reach again.</p>
<p>Ben looked distracted, upset. He gestured to the couch. “I guess I do have bad news.”</p>
<p>“So do I. Who should go first?” Rey asked.</p>
<p>Ben touched her face. “You tell me what’s wrong.” When Rey spilled about the possible serving, he closed his eyes. “That does it. I’m calling my mother’s attorney. I don’t care how much it costs --”</p>
<p>“Ben, we can worry about the Mothmas later. Please talk.” She kissed him in hope of softening his nerves.</p>
<p>“I have to tell you something about what happened today.” It sounded terrifying, but Rey let him speak. She noticed the envelope in his hand, bent from where he’d gripped it.</p>
<p>“I met with an actress who formed a production company. Phasma Scyre.”</p>
<p>“I’ve seen her movies,” Rey said.</p>
<p>Ben wouldn’t look at her now. He picked at the envelope’s clasp with his thumb. “She gave me the impression she was genuinely interested in making a film. We hadn’t talked about money, though, because in the middle of discussing her research she lays this on me.” He opened the envelope but let the contents sit.</p>
<p>“When I was in high school and college, I wasn’t exactly a chick magnet.” He let out a bitter laugh. “You have to understand, Mom wasn’t always a revered cult figure. People could be mean about her, especially early on. They accused her of being a hack, an ersatz talent churning out hotel room decor. She never claimed to be Frida Kahlo, she only wanted to paint pictures and share her knowledge.”</p>
<p>He paused. “So naturally, being her son didn’t win me points. If I wanted a woman’s attention, I employed my best skills, namely my own art. For a while there, I used a variation of my mother’s technique for, shall we say, prurient purposes.”</p>
<p>“So...what? You drew porn?” Rey asked.</p>
<p>“No. Happy little trees. Just not on canvas. Remember that little joke I made at the arcade, about using different media?”</p>
<p>Ben pulled out the photograph and showed it to her. Rey studied the woman’s back and behind, nude but for the nature landscape painted on her skin.</p>
<p>“Her name is Bazine and we dated in college,” Ben said. “I was serious about her. She was serious about dating a quasi-celebrity and using me as a springboard to launch her acting career. She begged me to get her on <em>Painting Joy</em>, but she couldn’t master the technique well enough. Of course, she hardly practiced.” Ben set the photo down. “Today I went to lunch thinking this Phasma person is a professional film producer, and she hits me with that. I don’t know if it’s blackmail or a hint.”</p>
<p>“Ben, I’m so sorry.” A hint at what? That she wanted Ben to do that to her?</p>
<p>Rey couldn’t take her eyes off the photo. This Bazine with her short dark hair had her head bent down, her face obscured. She reclined in pose so that the lush trees and waterfall looked spread across her. It was a beautiful photo and concept, to inspire a man to blend natural images in an intimate manner.</p>
<p>“How did you do this?” Rey asked. “I mean, what kind of paints?”</p>
<p>Ben shrugged. “Theatrical makeup. Body paints people use for performances and photo shoots. They’re not difficult to find, but they’re not cheap,” he said. “Only difference is I used the same brushes my mother used.”</p>
<p><em>Will you do this to me?</em> “You ought to be a tattoo artist. If I had this on me I’d never wash it off.”</p>
<p>That got a much-needed smile. “I appreciate that.” He covered the photo with the envelope. “Anyway, seeing this photo triggered all those bad memories, and I stormed out of there. I blew the deal,” he said, and buried his head in his hands. “I warned Maz…”</p>
<p>“Ben, it sounds like you were ambushed. I can’t tell you what her motives were, but she obviously knows very little about negotiating movie rights. You can’t put yourself at fault for leaving.” Rey helped Ben shed his jacket and went for his neck, massaging away the tension. This time he didn’t protest.</p>
<p>“What’s done is done,” he said. “Maybe with that <em>Antique Appraisals</em> video out there, somebody else will contact me about a movie. Or I should reach out to somebody. Oh, that’s much better than yesterday.” He lifted his head when Rey moved on to his shoulders.</p>
<p>“That’s because I limbered you up. Told you it gets better.”</p>
<p>Ben turned his head and Rey met him for a kiss. “I recall that I promised we’d have some fun later. It’s later. Where would you like to go?”</p>
<p>“How about into the other room?”</p>
<p>His eyes lit up at that, but Rey also noticed an underlying sadness. “I would love that, but I don’t want our first time to arise out of sympathy or pity.”</p>
<p>“I don’t pity you, Ben. We both had questionable days.” She paused in her massage. “Well, except for Maz bringing muffins over. That was nice.”</p>
<p>“I should have known she’d come to recon,” he muttered.</p>
<p>“I like her. She loves you.” Rey preferred now to think of what Ben could do to her.</p>
<p>Ben grabbed one of her hands and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “Since I’ve been so transparent with you these past few days, I might as well go all in.” He bussed her cheek. “How would you like to experience something only a handful of people on this planet have seen?”</p>
<p>“I thought we weren’t going into your bedroom.”</p>
<p>Ben answered by twisting in his seat and tackling her on the couch.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>He played the lost episode for her. They reclined on the couch with bottled water and a bag of puffed peapod snacks that tasted like salted Styrofoam peanuts. Maz had confiscated his Fritos this morning and left these, he learned from Rey.</p>
<p>At this point, Ben could have recited the entire episode, but he remained quiet and watched Rey’s reaction to every frame. She was entranced from the start to see his younger self create the seascape hanging over his bed. The same words spilled from her lips. Such talent, born with it.</p>
<p>“I was born with only so much,” he had to remind her. “Early on, I had more ears than talent.”</p>
<p>Midway through the program, the door lock snicked loose, and Ben groaned. He should never have given Maz a key.</p>
<p>Rey moved to sit up, but Ben held her tighter. No need to stand on ceremony around the old woman. But he was surprised to see a different figure fill the now open doorway.</p>
<p>“What is that?” Rey whispered to him, her eyes wide. Ben paused the video.</p>
<p>“Mr. Maz Kanata, also known as my Uncle Chewie.” Maz’s husband stood taller than Ben, and most of Williamsburg. Back in the day he’d ruled the court on one or two European professional basketball leagues. These days he puttered in his garden and occasionally aided and abetted his wife’s meddling. He was a man of few words and much hair, which he’d cinched today in a long ponytail.</p>
<p>“That beard, though,” Rey said quietly, watching Chewie cross into the kitchen area. “Is there a face underneath it?”</p>
<p>“There used to be.”</p>
<p>Chewie set a casserole dish on the stove and approached the sofa with a two-fingered salute and a card for Ben. “We still bowling Thursday?” Ben asked and got a thumbs-up for an answer. “See you then.”</p>
<p>Chewie exited as silently as he entered. Ben tried not to laugh at Rey’s expression throughout the odd exchange. “Chewie’s not one to linger,” he said. “Theirs is truly a yin-yang thing.”</p>
<p>“I’m beginning to think your Aunt Maz should have her own movie,” Rey said, then turned in Ben’s embrace. “How’s his bowling average?”</p>
<p>“Two-forty. Mine is nowhere close.”</p>
<p>“He’s pretty good,” she said.</p>
<p>Ben fished around the peapod bag and found only crumbs. “It ought to be for him. We bowl every Thursday. Except last night, of course.”</p>
<p>“You canceled bowling to help me?” Rey brushed the hair from his face.</p>
<p>“Worth it, even with that meat tenderizer massage. Now that I’m loosened up maybe this time I’ll beat him.” He met her kiss head-on then directed her attention back to the television. “Come on, this is important history we’re watching here.” He resumed the video and they settled down, while he opened the note. It contained heating instructions for the ziti and the words <em>Answer your phone</em>.</p>
<p>Then his phone rang.</p>
<p>Ben groaned and entangled himself from Rey with great reluctance. Maz’s psychic powers were rubbing off; he anticipated a beat down. “Back in a sec. Pay attention, we’re getting to the good part.” He removed himself to the bedroom.</p>
<p>“You could have just come over,” he greeted Aunt Maz.</p>
<p>The woman’s voice cut through bone. “Chewie was on errands anyway. I needed the time to console a rather devastated Phasma Scyre.”</p>
<p>“Don’t,” Ben warned. It wouldn’t surprise him if Maz knew about his extracurricular art activities in school, but why bring it up? “She was the inappropriate one at that meeting. I sensed some string around that money she wanted to give, and I’m not tugging at it.”</p>
<p>“She is also quite apologetic and wants you to know it,” Aunt Maz said. “Despite the abrupt ending to your lunch, Phasma wants this project to happen. She’s even upped her offer.”</p>
<p>Could one put a price on his humiliation? Damn, he needed her money, but suspected she intended to pay for more than film rights. “Before I commit, I have stipulations, the first being that Phasma and I communicate via a mediator until I’m comfortable. It can be you or anyone else.”</p>
<p>He heard a noise on the other end that he took to mean agreement. “She also told me she talked to Mom’s brother. I haven’t talked to him in forever. How do I know he’s not trying to make some claim on the estate?”</p>
<p>“He won’t and he can’t,” Aunt Maz said. “Your uncle has no malice towards you. It’s… complicated.”</p>
<p>So Maz was chummy with the man. Figured. “I’ll send a list of the rest soon,” he added. “I’m busy now.”</p>
<p>“I hope Rey is enjoying the video. I love you, Benjamin.”</p>
<p>This time he need not have asked. Surely Chewie told her what they were watching.</p>
<p>Maybe.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ben preferred to walk Colonial Williamsburg in the late afternoon. The bulk of tourists typically boarded their buses by then to return to their hotels, leaving the closed-off roads free for locals to get in their steps. In summer, when the light lasted, he found it ideal to sit and sketch, and nobody bothered him.</p>
<p>Today, he and Rey lucked out with a parking space and they took their time walking past the restored and preserved buildings. Those utilized as gift shops were closing soon, which meant the costumed reenactors were nearly done for the day. Neither seemed bothered by that, however. Each wrapped an arm around the other’s waist, losing themselves in conversation.</p>
<p>“How many of these buildings have you drawn, besides the church?” she asked as they passed Bruton Parish.</p>
<p>“Probably all of them. If I were to go through my old books I could probably recreate Duke of Gloucester Street in paper.” Beyond the church was a long, green lawn leading down to the pre-Revolutionary Governor’s Palace. “I actually painted that,” he said. “Maz has it hung over the fireplace.”</p>
<p>“I’d love to see it.”</p>
<p>Ben didn’t doubt an invitation to the farm out in James City County was forthcoming. “I hope you’re not allergic to animals,” he warned. “It’s like a staging area for the Ark out there.”</p>
<p>Further down the road, they came upon the stockade, a popular photo spot. A visiting family had just snapped Insta pics of their kids in the headpieces and left it to them. Ben stroked the top of the wooden structure. “Take your picture?” he offered, winking.</p>
<p>“This isn’t really my kink.” Rey laughed.</p>
<p>“You sure?” Ben looped his arm through one of the hand holes and lifted the sliding wood with his arm. “One could probably have a bit fun with this thing. Sneak out here in the middle of the night, get some wicked fun oral while you're hanging from this thing…”</p>
<p>“Cool, cool…” Rey folded her arms, studying the contraption. “How about you go first?”</p>
<p>He liked this girl. “What is your kink, if it’s not eighteenth-century punishment devices?” he asked, then yelped when Rey pulled his arm deeper through the hole. This thing was obviously designed for prisoners who didn’t work out and build muscles.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid to say because I’m not sure how you’ll react,” she said, and her smile faded into a thoughtful expression, but recovered when their gazes met.</p>
<p>Ben worried for about a nanosecond. “It’s legal, at least, right?”</p>
<p>“Yes. It’s also something I didn’t realize I wanted until recently.”</p>
<p>It took a moment for Ben to get the meaning of Rey’s words. “Rey, it’s fine. It wasn’t the body painting that embarrassed me, just the idea somebody might want to use it against me. Truth be told, I enjoyed doing it. I haven’t done anything like that in a while.”</p>
<p>Rey said nothing, just stared him down with a plea in her softening gaze.</p>
<p>“It would mean forfeiting your lesson tonight,” he said. “It’s not like using a canvas with the wet on wet technique. You may be laying out completely naked for a few hours.”</p>
<p>“Why do you sound like you’re trying to talk me out of doing that for you?”</p>
<p>Ben retreated his arm and rubbed away the soreness. “Oh, I’d enjoy the hell out of it, no worries there,” he said, and ducked when she threatened to smack him. They started back toward the car. “You’re the one who won’t be able to move until I’m done.”</p>
<p>“I hydrate. I don’t cramp easily, either.”</p>
<p>He had to admit, the prospect of painting on Rey’s body excited him. The moment he opened Phasma’s envelope to find Bazine’s old photo, thoughts of Rey invaded his mind to replace the bad memories. “Let’s give you a patch test first to make sure your skin doesn’t react to the paint. It’s fairly harmless stuff but I won’t take chances.”</p>
<p>Rey clung to his side the entire walk back. Tucked in his arm, she felt lighter than air to him, as though giddy at the prospect of becoming his canvas for the night.</p>
<p>That, he knew, and his inspiration.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>While the ziti baked, Ben got out his body paint kit. It resembled a large tackle box, filled with paint pots and palettes, touch-up sticks and brushes. Anybody seeing this might think Ben was a professional circus clown, or heavily into cosplay.</p>
<p>Rey picked up a large tube of blue, which looked almost black through the clear plastic. “What’s this?”</p>
<p>“Latex paint. I won’t be using that,” Ben said, sorting his colors. “That’s for if you want to do a whole body effect, like for a costume.”</p>
<p>The tube had been opened, and some of the paint used. “Have you used this?”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh.” Ben wasn’t looking at her.</p>
<p>“For what?” The image of dark blue paint, cascading down Ben’s bare chest and molding to him, bloomed vividly in her mind.</p>
<p>“Years ago, I did side work as a makeup artist. That’s leftover from a magazine shoot. One of those sci-fi ones, I forget.” He took a small brush and glanced up at her. “Cool thing about it is when you’re done, it peels right off.”</p>
<p>Rey’s stomach fluttered. “Maybe we could --”</p>
<p>“Give me that.” Ben snatched back the tube, smiling. “One fetish at a time, okay? Now hold out your arm.” Using the touch-up brush, Ben painted short lines of red, blue, and yellow on the underside of her arm. He explained that the paint was paraffin and glycerin-based, and held up one pot for her to inspect. She detected no scents, and assured Ben she had no allergies.</p>
<p>“Normally we should give this twenty-four hours to be safe,” Ben said. “If you still want to do this, I think by the time we finish eating and cleaning up you’ll be okay.”</p>
<p>As they ate, Ben worked on a legal pad the list of conditions he intended to send to Phasma and read them out to her. He had no issues with the interviewee list save for one person, but he wanted to screen all interview footage for accuracy. He would not provide the lost episode for her use unless he was able to present it in some manner before the documentary premiered, and he wanted final approval of the finished product before it was released.</p>
<p>“I don’t think I’m asking too much here, right?”</p>
<p>She shook her head. “How come that episode was never looped into the reruns?” Rey asked.</p>
<p>Ben scraped a chunk of bread over the sauce on his plate. “I used to be embarrassed by it. When Mom got sick, she would watch it and ask me to consider taking it to the network, but I never did,” he said. “Our contract expires soon, anyway; if I decide to re-up I might include it. To be honest, I kind of envisioned premiering it as part of a museum exhibit.”</p>
<p>It would happen. “<em>If</em> you decide? Are you thinking of pulling the show altogether?”</p>
<p>Ben shook his head. “It’s revenue. Two streaming platforms are interested, though, but they’re low-balling me on price. <em>Painting Joy</em> had very low production costs...I mean, it was Mom in front of an easel for thirty minutes, and most of those episodes were done in one take. They use that to justify offering so little, and I don’t want to get locked into another bad deal. That’s kind of why Phasma’s film is important right now.</p>
<p>“It’s a lot to think about,” he said. “Part of it is Mom, too. She always believed the show should be accessible to everybody. Forcing people to subscribe to a service to watch <em>Painting Joy</em>...I wouldn’t feel right even if the money was good.”</p>
<p>“You have a YouTube channel. You could add more shows, monetize the channel,” Ray said. “All it does is insert ads into the show.”</p>
<p>Ben scooped up his last bite. “I haven’t really thought of that. I suck at social media; we used to have somebody do that for us.” He nodded at her. “Want a job?”</p>
<p>“What’s it pay?”</p>
<p>“Free art lessons,” said Ben.</p>
<p>Rey finished her meal. “I’ll need to see a demonstration of your skills first.”</p>
<p>Ben set down his napkin. “Let’s do it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>2/24/21: Two chapters today. Thanks for the kudos and kind words. Much appreciated.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ben dressed down in sweatpants and a blue t-shirt already spotted with old paint. Rey volunteered the use of her massage table, and set it up under a dropcloth in the living room. Very likely the body paint wouldn’t spill over, but it beat working to get out stains in the carpet later. Ben next laid towels to prevent paint from marking up the table’s padding. “You can use my room if you like,” he told her.</p>
<p>“I’m okay undressing here.” Rey had shed her shoes and was already pushing her jeans over her hips. In her line of work, hangups about nudity disappeared early on in her career. She’d thought Ben, being an artist, believed the same.</p>
<p>When everything else came off she folded her clothes on the couch, then positioned herself stomach down on the table. Ben, for the entire time, watched with wide eyes.</p>
<p>“You are so beautiful, Rey,” he said. “Your skin is amazing; you almost don’t need --”</p>
<p>“Ben, please.”</p>
<p>He nodded and collected the pots he planned to use. “I want to do something different,” he said, and coaxed Rey to turn over. He took a fan brush and drew an imaginary line under the swell of her breasts. “Let’s draw over this part here,” he pointed down to her pelvis, “ and down one leg. Or both. “Depends where the mood strikes.</p>
<p>“But first,” he added, lining up the pots along her left side, “I need to warm you up.”</p>
<p>“I’m not cold,” Rey said. Quite the contrary. Ben’s gaze lingering on her bare breasts radiated heat down her torso. Her pussy gave a squeeze, anticipating the first touch of paint to her skin.</p>
<p>“Not exactly what I’m talking about.” Ben held up the fan brush. “You can’t be ticklish, Rey. You’ll have to hold still for this, and that means getting accustomed to the brush.” Before making contact, though, he handed her a washcloth to cover her mound. He clearly didn’t miss that she’d waxed in preparation for the weekend.</p>
<p>“You’re not going to paint down there?” she asked, and settled the cloth between her thighs.</p>
<p>Ben shook his head. “It’s not that the paint will irritate the skin.” He bent low to speak into her ear. “The paint isn’t edible.”</p>
<p><em>You sexy son of a...</em> Rey brought her hand to the back of his head and fisted it in his hair. She pushed him closer for a hard kiss that nearly knocked him off balance. Ben gripped the massage table, his mouth pliant to her demands for about a minute before he tapered away.</p>
<p>“We can skip the whole thing --”</p>
<p>“<em>Nooo</em>. I’ll be good.” Rey lay back, but pouted. Ben took a moment to breathe and held up the fan brush again.</p>
<p>He started on her chin, even though he wouldn’t be painting above her bustline. The idea, he explained, was to acclimate her entire body to the touch. With gentle strokes, he touched the bristles along her jawline and down her throat, then across her collarbones. To Rey it reminded her a bit of BDSM, though she hadn’t experienced kink herself. Rose devoured such romances, and often loaned the ones she enjoyed to Rey.</p>
<p>Ben alternated between short, quick snips of the brush and long, swirling drags over her skin. He circled one breast starting at the outer swell and moved the brush clockwise, closing in on her nipple. He dabbed the bristle points against the hardened point; the prickling sensation had her sucking in air. It was too delicious for words, especially when Ben mimicked the path on her other breast.</p>
<p>It seemed to take forever to get further south, however. “You wouldn’t happen to be stalling, Ben?” she asked, keeping her tone light.</p>
<p>“I told you I’d enjoy myself. This is half the fun for me right here.” He bent down a bit with a smile that dared her to protest. “You not having a good time?”</p>
<p>“I merely wonder about your process, is all.”</p>
<p>Ben executed a long swoop underneath both breasts. Rey’s pussy squeezed at that. “This gives me time to think about what I’m going to paint. Do I make it minimalist, or create an entire forest line right here?” He dragged the brush in a curved line below her navel. “I also have to think of perspective, too. You’re not a flat canvas.”</p>
<p>He maneuvered the brush over one hip and back. Rey parted her legs a bit and Ben obliged with short strokes up and down her inner thighs. His gaze seemed to linger there, and Rey willed him to give serious thought to burying his face down there later.</p>
<p>Ben stopped brushing her at mid-thigh and selected a paint pot. “I think I got it now,” he said, and dipped in the brush. From the first dab of tiny green leaves on her lower rib cage area, he kept a quiet, serious concentration. Rey saw only patches of different colors on her skin as he worked; her vantage point made it difficult for her to discern exactly what Ben had planned. She guessed trees, but what else?</p>
<p>He used more brushes for this design; Rey assumed it was because he had nothing with which to clean them, and didn’t want to put something else on her skin and compromise the painting. The longer he worked on her, the easier it became to hold still and focus on the gentle glides of paint-coated bristles.</p>
<p>Colors changed quickly -- green to yellow to brown and so on. Ben would move from one side of the table to the other for the best angles, and occasionally ask her how she was holding up. “You know, I didn’t think to ask if you needed to use the bathroom first,” he said at one point. He’d just completed what looked like a cluster of Douglas firs on her left side and now had a mix and white and blue on a larger fan brush.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Rey said.</p>
<p>“You’re doing great.” Ben had slipped into a zone, she could tell. The deeper he concentrated with the paints, his tongue would poke from between his lips and slide slightly to one side. Interesting to know he had a quirk like that, but at times Rey watched with some difficulty. Her mind drifted to how his tongue might feel circling her clit.</p>
<p>That made her tremble, which forced Ben to stop and straighten up, and look down at her with consternation. “Hold still,” he admonished.</p>
<p>“Sorry...I was thinking of something.”</p>
<p>Ben didn’t ask what. He waited for her to breathe back down to steady and resumed painting. Rey looked down to see her middle was now a spectrum of blue shades, a bright sky bleeding down into darker lake water. Ben accented both with white, clouds and reflective ripples leading to a rocky shoreline.</p>
<p>He straightened again, arching his back and rubbing his neck. This was definitely an awkward angle for painting. Rey hoped the next massage worked out those kinks well. “Are you finished?” she asked.</p>
<p>“I believe so,” he said. “I don’t want to overdo it. It’s not as involved as a typical Leia Organa painting, but there’s plenty going on.” He set aside his brushes and helped Rey to stand upright. The washcloth fell to the floor. “Wait here.”</p>
<p>He disappeared into his room, returning with a large mirror for Rey to see the end result. The image, seen right side up, took her breath away. Rey marveled at the line of trees surrounding the lake painting across her abdomen, and the different sized grey and mossy rocks bordering the water.</p>
<p>“Ben, it’s amazing.”</p>
<p>He gave her the mirror and moved to stand behind her. “Thank you. Though I think it’s a bit hurried. I’ve never done up the front of the body like this.”</p>
<p>“Don’t disparage, Ben. I love it,” Rey said. “Take a picture?”</p>
<p>He conceded, using Rey’s phone. Rey covered her breasts and he snapped two, in portrait and square ratios. He was careful not to get her <em>mons</em> in the shot. “You never know with these phones,” he said.</p>
<p>“I don’t think anybody would notice my cooch for all this paint.” Rey held the mirror in front of her. She couldn’t stop staring. “I hate to mess it up.”</p>
<p>Ben moved to stand behind her and hooked his arms under hers. Rey thought he was making to plant his hands right on his work and she squirmed.</p>
<p>“I’m not going to touch it,” he said. “Not after all that time spent to create it.” He cupped her shoulders with his hands and gazed at her reflection with her. “I am curious to see how long it stays completely intact, though.”</p>
<p>“You can always touch it up if it smears, right?”</p>
<p>Ben slid his hands down to her breasts, kneading them. “Of course.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In retrospect, painting Rey’s back would have made it easier for sex provided it wasn’t missionary. Bazine had always preferred doggie style, which in a way suited their relationship. Their gazes rarely met.</p>
<p>When he made love to Rey for the first time, he wanted to look into her eyes as much as possible. The mirror didn’t necessarily count.</p>
<p>Ben pressed the bulge in his sweatpants against her bare ass. “Are you going to put that thing down and let me fuck you?”</p>
<p>Rey laughed. “Why is it so good? I don’t want to stop looking at it.”</p>
<p>“How about another bet?” He nuzzled her neck. “If we can get through sex without messing it up too much, I’ll add six more free lessons to the five you have left.” Not a big deal for him, though. He’d give her a lesson every day for the rest of the year. Longer. “You be the judge.”</p>
<p>“Seems like it should be the other way around,” Rey said. “You mess it up, you owe me lessons.”</p>
<p>“Fine, we’ll do that. If it stays intact, I get five more massages.”</p>
<p>Game on. Rey still refused to surrender the mirror, forcing Ben to work around it. He kissed the back of her neck, then lit a trail across to one shoulder and back, and down her spine. He turned Rey so he could recline on the couch while he worshipped her behind, and he brought one hand up between her thighs.</p>
<p>He licked across one cheek to her hip and peered at his reflection in the mirror, as much as he could without turning nauseous. Rey’s grip on it shook and it bothered his eyes. He didn’t doubt the thing was gaining weight in her hands. He also peered up to see where Rey’s gaze landed.</p>
<p>She wasn’t admiring his artistic rendering anymore. Rey was fixed on his fingers as they stroked her labia and teased her clit and cunt. She moved her legs further apart, allowing him to increase the sensations she apparently craved. Her light mewling in pleasure gave him the confidence to move forward.</p>
<p>“Let me eat your pussy, please?” he whispered. Down went the mirror on her table; a promising sign. Ben lay all the way down on his couch and guided Rey to straddle his face. Her right knee bore down on the cushion while her left foot kept her balance on the floor. Ben looked up at the nature landscape across her middle, looking for a spot to place his hand without smearing the color.</p>
<p>Such a lovely view from here. Ben alternated between licking short circles around her clit and pushing his lips into her wetness to drink from her. Nothing like cotton candy, but he discovered he had a new favorite flavor.</p>
<p>Rey’s eyes fluttered shut as she slowly rode him. He could tell she wanted to stay upright to show him how his loving her affected the artwork on her skin. The nature scene came alive in their passion -- the leaves rustled, the water rippled. Ben kept his left hand high up on her breast, kneading gently while his right slipped under his sweatpants and stroked his cock.</p>
<p>Rey must have felt the bump from the way his arm nudged her bracing leg. She turned away from him and said, “No, let me,” and tugged at his waistband to free him. Ben moaned against her pussy at the first touch. She worked his shaft in a slow, corkscrew motion starting at the base. Every few strokes she’d glide her fingers up to grip him around the glans and twist. Her thumb brushed the head of his prick and he arched into her.</p>
<p>“If you want to know what a more sensual massage is like,” she said, “this’s just a preview. Next time I’ll take good care of you.” She met his upward gaze. “Please get in me.”</p>
<p>Ben brushed his lips against the inside of her thigh. “You have to come for me first, Rey. How do I make that happen?”</p>
<p>She told him how. Her words encouraged him to flick his tongue faster on her clit, and she relaxed into him, careful not to bear down too much weight. When Rey came it happened gradually, a soft moan that spiked into a long, loud wail that had her gripping the couch’s armrest to keep from collapsing. Ben slowed his tongue on her and slid down to her cunt to continue tasting until she quieted.</p>
<p>Rey told him she couldn’t hold on any longer and rested back on his hip bones. The trees and lake expanded and heaved with her every breath, but Ben noticed a few beads of perspiration underneath her breasts and wiped them away before they reached the paint.</p>
<p>“Check my pocket,” he said, licking her from his lips. He watched Rey fish out the condom and, after tearing apart the foil, take it upon herself to roll it on him. No woman had done that for him before; it was probably the sexiest thing he’d seen and experienced, this while making love to a woman he’d “marked.”</p>
<p>“How’s my painting?” Rey asked, looking down as she positioned herself to ride him. She had to wait for Ben to kick down his sweats first.</p>
<p>“Still intact.” Could a man die from nine consecutive erotic massages? Good luck to Aunt Maz explaining the goofy smile on his face to mourners at his casket viewing.</p>
<p>“Lucky you,” Rey said, and let him help seat her. They reacted together at this new sensation, and Rey clawed at the hem of his t-shirt until Ben removed it. She said she needed to touch him, and she rubbed her hands up and down his chest as she rocked her hips, taking him deep within her.</p>
<p>She lifted one hand to the side of his face, holding it there. Rey had been the only one to do that with him, a simple gesture that spoke of great intimacy and affection. He felt the warmth radiating from her palm and fingers, and he fixated on her face. Her soft eyes, those adorable freckles. He wanted to capture that expression of desire.</p>
<p>“Ben…” Her breathing hitched with her increased speed. “I can’t…”</p>
<p>“You want to switch?” They’d find a way without messing her up.</p>
<p>Rey shook her head. “I can’t not kiss you now.”</p>
<p>With that she pressed against him, planting her lips over his in a feverish kiss. They clung tightly together until Ben came, and when they eventually separated during afterglow the trees and lake had blended into the sky as though hit by a ferocious wind.</p>
<p>On her body and his.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Rey hated to see Ben’s meticulous art work reduced to colorful rivulets of soapy water, streaking down her legs into the shower drain. He offered to decorate her again, and she suggested a raincheck. She took consolation in the way Ben, cuddled next to her in the shower, lathered her body to ensure the removal of all the paint. Naturally, she reciprocated.</p>
<p>“I’ll be honest,” Ben told her, “this may be my new favorite part of the whole process.”</p>
<p>Saturday was spent mostly in bed, making love and staying hydrated. They missed their tavern lunch reservation but neither seemed bothered by it. What made it all the more interesting to Rey was when Aunt Maz texted Ben shortly after their seating time to announce she was dropping off food. Ben showed her his phone.</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m leaving it on the doorstep. Enjoy the day. :-)</em>
</p>
<p>“How does she know?” she asked, amazed.</p>
<p>“If we ever get out of bed, help me look for a hidden camera.”</p>
<p>It took Rey insisting she needed her oil for the next massage to coerce Ben into taking a break. She left Maz’s picnic basket in the kitchen and returned to a now worried Ben, who wondered aloud if the next session would also hurt, and not in a good way.</p>
<p>“There’s a different technique I use,” she said, “and before you ask, this isn’t part of my job.”</p>
<p>Ben remained flat on his back, at her request. “May I ask how you were...educated?”</p>
<p>Rey knelt beside him and rubbed a few drops of the coconut oil on her hands. She took Ben’s arm and positioned it so that he palmed her bare breast while she worked on his muscles. “In that respect, self-taught. I guess my romantic history is similar to yours,” she said. “Men seemed more attentive when I told them what I did for a living. The prospect of a happy ending rubdown appealed to them,” she then made a face, “but it’s not much fun if you get so little in return.”</p>
<p>“We are definitely two of a kind, huh?” Ben laughed.</p>
<p>Rey repeated with his other arm. “Look at it this way: we’ve had plenty of practice.”</p>
<p>The massage progressed mainly on Ben’s front, With Rey straddling one of his legs while she worked. Unlike Ben’s paints, her oil was edible, which proved handy as she finished a thorough manipulation of his cock by blowing him.</p>
<p>Ben fisted the fitted sheets as Rey swallowed, and he nearly ripped holes in them, exposing the mattress. “Do you have to go home?” he asked after catching his breath. The beach seemed two states away now instead of an hour’s drive.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” Rey snuggled against his side. “I have a job. I have rent to pay, you know.”</p>
<p>“If I sell everything in storage and we live off spaghetti and peanut butter, we could get by for about ten years --”</p>
<p>Rey smacked his hip. “Don’t you dare. You’re opening that museum.” She’d help, too, she said. Whatever it took.</p>
<p>She glanced at Ben’s bedside clock, her mood dimming as time pointed her closer to their eventual parting. It had been an amazing weekend, one she hoped to duplicate soon. As she moved to leave the bed, Ben brushed his fingers over her arm. “Thank you,” he said.</p>
<p>For the massage, the sex, her presence in general? As she opened her mouth to acknowledge it, he added, “I was coming off the worst year of my life since Mom died, when you showed me her painting at the coliseum. It felt like a sign to me, that things might turn around. I didn’t think it would lead to this, but I’m glad it did.”</p>
<p>Rey leaned down to kiss him. “Me, too.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sunday kept Rey busy with back-to-back appointments. Where clients typically chose to let their massages progress with only the yawning New Age music from Rey’s phone to relax them, people now wanted to chat. Rey entertained her clients with long summaries of her first art lesson, minus the ensuing events.</p>
<p>At one point she let it slip that Ben was trying to fund a museum. “He should try one of those fundraiser apps. Leia’s fans will surely donate,” the woman said. True, but beneficiaries were typically obliged to offer incentives for that. Ben couldn’t promise lessons to everybody who sent in a few bucks, nor could he give away merch under its retail value. Maybe free passes when it opened? Rey promised to bring it up next time they met, though she was certain she’d forget.</p>
<p>On Monday, after another full day, she spotted a strange car in the alley by her home. A young man in crisp brown slacks and a white shirt, carrying a glass vase of flowers, approached. “I’m looking for a,” he made show of checking a card, “Rey Skyler. That you?”</p>
<p>Rey sighed. “Keep the flowers and give me the damn papers,” she said.</p>
<p>With a sheepish smile, the young man served her. “Don’t shoot the messenger,” he said. “I saw the video. For what it's worth, I think you should keep the painting.”</p>
<p>“Thanks.” Rey entered her home, tossed the envelope on the kitchen counter, and let out a loud curse. This was inevitable, but knowing that hardly lessened her frustration. She texted Ben first thing, then texted Rose to pick up pizza for dinner. Her desire to cook tonight evaporated.</p>
<p>Next, she called an old friend, one who might help. John Finn greeted her in a friendly tone. “I was wondering when you’d call,” he said, implying he too had seen the videos. “Are you looking for representation?”</p>
<p>“Hardly. I do not aspire to show business at all, no matter how enthusiastic I looked.” She laughed. “I have a legal issue.” She summarized the dispute with the Mothmas. “I got served today. Ben’s offered to help, but he has enough going on to add to his plate.”</p>
<p>“Rey, I’m happy to assist <em>pro bono</em>, though my practice is more entertainment law,” John said. “Send me all the information you have on the painting and I’ll make some calls.”</p>
<p>“I appreciate it, buddy. How’s Jannah?”</p>
<p>“Much happier now that we’ve set a date.” The happiness in his voice was palpable. “Shall I expect you to confirm a plus one?”</p>
<p>“We will see.”</p>
<p>Ben’s series of texts came during dinner, asking about her schedule later in the week.<em> I have an appraisal job at the beach Friday. Couple divorcing. They’re liquidating their art inventory rather than splitting the collection.</em></p>
<p>“You don’t mind?” Rey asked Rose first.</p>
<p>Rose winked. “I can make myself scarce.”</p>
<p>Rey dashed off a reply. <em>Off Sat and Sun. Come stay the weekend if you like. Bring the paint.</em></p>
<p><em>Which ones?</em> Wink emoji.</p>
<p>
  <em>Surprise me.</em>
</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Thursday night, Ben broke two hundred for the first time in months, finishing the first game with two consecutive strikes. Uncle Chewie congratulated him with a fist bump and prepared for his final frame. Ben snapped a photo of his score and sent it to Rey. He credited her bodywork with his improvement; his form had definitely improved along with his game.</p>
<p>Aunt Maz watched from a round table behind their lane with their dinner, pizza for Chewie and Caesar salad -- light on dressing -- for Ben. “You’re making him nervous, Benjamin.”</p>
<p>Ben stabbed a chunk of grilled chicken covered in Romaine. “Uncle Chewie doesn’t know the meaning of that word.”</p>
<p>“I sense we are coming to that point in the relationship where you finally best him at something,” Maz said. “The student becomes the master.”</p>
<p>“If I wanted to do that, I’d have challenged Chewie to Pac Man early on.”</p>
<p>She leaned forward. “Have you had the opportunity to read Phasma’s scope of work and agreement?”</p>
<p>He had. It seemed fairly standard, but he wanted the family lawyer to give it a look over for any loopholes that might come back to bite him.</p>
<p>“I ask because she called today,” Maz said. “Something time-sensitive has come up and she requires an answer as soon as possible.”</p>
<p>“How long have you been sitting on that information?” Ben hated surprises, this kind anyway. “Is this something to do with Uncle Luke?”</p>
<p>“Lando, actually. You know he teaches Leia’s technique.”</p>
<p>“I know. Phasma said she took his class,” Ben said. He kept one eye on the lane. Chewie had finished with two strikes himself, beating him once again, and was starting the next game.</p>
<p>Maz sipped her tea. “He’s planned an event to coincide with the airing of your <em>Antique Appraisals</em> episode. It was to have been a small gathering, mostly his pupils, but Phasma got involved and it sort of...expanded.”</p>
<p>“Expanded into what?” Ben asked. The way Maz talked, blown up into a damned circus came to mind.</p>
<p>“It was to have been a viewing party preceded by a demonstration by Lando, but he injured his wrist yesterday playing racquetball. He’s not certain it will heal in time,” she said.</p>
<p>Ben put down his fork and waited for the boom to lower. Maz, however, surprised him.</p>
<p>“Phasma volunteered to substitute for him.”</p>
<p>Ben considered the possibilities. “She’s going to teach Mom’s technique to a class?”</p>
<p>“She wants to film it as well, and perhaps use some footage for the documentary.”</p>
<p>“And she wants my permission?” Ben asked. “I don’t believe she needs it.” He stood, preparing for his turn to bowl in the next game.</p>
<p>“She wants you to come. Bring some of Leia’s paintings to exhibit.” Maz looked directly at him. “Quite a few notable people plan to attend this.”</p>
<p>This smelled like a trap and Ben couldn’t figure out why. “The show airs in less than three weeks,” he said. “I give them credit for putting together an event at short notice, but this doesn’t warrant me taking inventory out of storage and driving six-seven hours for a one-night event.” Besides, he intended to watch the show with Rey, alone, preferably in bed with Chinese food.</p>
<p>“I told Phasma she could borrow my birthday series.” She cast Ben a coy glance that begged him to remain calm.</p>
<p>“Wait here.”</p>
<p>Ben stormed down the two steps to his lane, grabbed a ball, and bowled a strike. When he returned to the table, he asked, “Are you sure you want to do that? Those paintings can’t be replaced if they’re damaged or stolen.”</p>
<p>“If you drive them up to New York yourself and oversee their care, I am confident they will be safe.”</p>
<p>“But what if --”</p>
<p>Maz slapped the table hard. Cutlery vibrated and glasses threatened to topple. Ben reared back; Maz rarely showed her temper, especially in a public place.</p>
<p>“You understand how much is at stake here, Benjamin? This woman has agreed to all of your terms, and once you formalize the contract you will be able to clear your debts. You want that, so why do you resist?” Maz’s gaze turned dark and demanding, and Ben was chagrined to see it. He’d been unnecessarily hard on his dear friend.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, even beyond mediating this agreement, but something about Phasma doesn’t sit well with me.”</p>
<p>Maz leaned back, calmer now. “Why is that? You think this is some elaborate scheme to seduce you? Do you honestly believe you’re whoring yourself to get this woman’s money?”</p>
<p><em>Not how I’d put it.</em> His mind returned to Bazine’s photo and the fascination in Phasma’s eyes when she talked about it. “Yeah, I do.”</p>
<p>To his relief, Maz didn’t laugh. She placed her hand over his. “Benjamin, in all my conversations with Phasma, I’ve only detected a woman determined to be taken seriously as a producer. She is passionate about this project and I’ve no doubt she is more interested in your memories of your mother than your body. I’ll refrain from wondering why, of course,” she said, joking. “If you’re that concerned, why don’t you take Rey with you? It only makes sense she is there as she is appearing with you on the show, and I assume you plan to ask her anyway.”</p>
<p>Chewie sat down to eat, and Ben left to bowl his next frame. Of course he intended to ask. He hoped Rey could get off work for a trip; perhaps they’d make a long weekend of it. He concentrated on the pins before him for about a minute before letting go, cursing when he got the seven-ten split.</p>
<p>It occurred to him in his conversation with Maz that she’d said nothing about Phasma wanting Rey there. For the first time in his life, he wondered if Maz could possibly be wrong about something.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Friday, midway through her long shift, Rey had to turn off specific notifications on her phone as they interrupted the flow of the music, and consequently her work.</p>
<p>One client looked up from his facial rest. “You’re popular today,” he remarked.</p>
<p>“All my high school dreams are coming true,” she said with a hint of sarcasm. “Be careful what you wish for.”</p>
<p>At lunch she scrolled the barrage of texts. First up, John sent good news. <em>Talked to the woman who used 2b station mgr at PA station. Said ur painting went missing after Mothma left. Stolen? They kept cert of auth with Leia’s signature.</em></p>
<p>“Whoa.” Knowing Mon Mothma might have taken a souvenir when she retired gave Rey some hope. Of course, there came the thought that the television station might want the painting back. She thanked John and asked to stay in the loop.</p>
<p>Ben had texted her in the morning to let her know he had left home for the beach. More than an hour after that, a note to say he’d arrived for his appointment and would text when he was finished. Rey sent her address and told him where to find the hide-a-key if he beat her to the apartment, and to make himself at home.</p>
<p>Lastly, a text from Poe: <em>U wont believe who called looking 4u. Phasma Scyre. U want the digits?</em></p>
<p>Interesting that the actress wished to contact her directly. Rey considered the possibility that Ben didn’t speak of Rey at his lunch meeting, or in subsequent communications. That wasn’t Phasma’s business, of course, but Rey’s mind filled with questions. She supposed only one person could answer.</p>
<p>She told Poe yes, and a minute later he sent the number. At the very least, she’d have a stimulating conversation topic when she and Ben met up later.</p>
<p>Rey’s initial text to Phasma was polite, relaying Poe’s message and asking how she could help. She wasn’t expecting the actress to call immediately.</p>
<p>“I can’t wait to see the <em>Antique Appraisals</em> show when it airs,” Phasma said after their formal introduction. “I asked Mr. Dameron if there was a way to view it beforehand, but I got from him they’re keeping it under wraps.”</p>
<p>Rey didn’t blame the showrunners for that. Too many spoilers out there. “I haven’t seen the episode myself, so I can’t help you there.”</p>
<p>“No worries, though I do hope you can assist me in another way.” Phasma rolled into her spiel about her Leia Organa documentary, talking to Rey as though she were hearing about it for the first time. This sealed the confirmation that Phasma wasn’t aware of her intimate connection to Ben.</p>
<p>“I know it’s short notice, but I’d like to invite you to an art demonstration and viewing party I’m hosting with Lando Calrissian,” Phasma said. “I’m filming it to use footage for the doc, and I’d also like to interview you as part of it. I have a list of a few Leia ‘super fans’ I’m talking to, and I thought of you.”</p>
<p>Ben had already asked her to go with him, and she’d cleared the time off with work. It took a few hours to reschedule her bookings for that time, but every client happily conceded. “Of course, sounds like fun.”</p>
<p>“Wonderful. Do you think you’d be able to bring the painting?” Phasma asked. “I’ve arranged for a number of Leia originals to go on display. Yours would be a perfect addition.”</p>
<p>Rey’s heart numbed at the question. With the legal dispute, she would have preferred to keep it in storage. “I’ll see what I can do.”</p>
<p>Phasma accepted the answer with grace. “If you decide to sell it, Rey, I am happy to make an offer.” The number she gave was well over what Ben had estimated, and it took Rey’s breath away. A flash of signage for Skyler Massage Studio shone behind her eyes, and she blinked it away. She’d promised Ben first dibs if, <em>if</em>, she sold.</p>
<p>“I appreciate the offer,” she said. “I’ll let you know.” They rang off with a pleasant goodbye, though Rey held her phone for a moment as a surge of suspicion, similar to what Ben described in talking about Phasma, tore through her.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Ben stood before the framed de Kooning, more than a bit awed. He’d arrived at this gated estate in the north end of the beach expecting a modest collection of works by minor artists. Yet, this soon-to-divorce couple had once been serious about their acquisitions. Works like these needed to be on display at the Chrysler Museum in Norfolk, not in a man cave at sea level in a town susceptible to hurricanes.</p>
<p>Both parties were present for his visit, and so far had behaved civilly. Of course, neither spoke directly to each other but used Ben as a mediator. So long as nobody bickered, he was okay with it, but he suffered the disadvantage of bearing the brunt of their frustration.</p>
<p>“I understand a few years ago a de Kooning went for over $60 million at auction,” said the husband. “And that was following a $40 million estimate.”</p>
<p>“It did,” Ben said. His mother’s work should fetch so much. Solve all his problems. “It doesn’t mean every de Kooning is worth that much, however. To achieve that price, a perfect storm of interest and available funds must occur.” Ben explained other factors that determined a painting’s value, but it seemed the husband was more interested in a return on his investment. In a way, it irritated Ben to think that had been the only reason they bought the art.</p>
<p>“Do you mind if I…?” He held up his camera and, when given consent, snapped a few photos. He repeated the process with the rest of their collection, which included a number of signed and numbered lithographs by Warhol and Lichtenstein. Those likely would sell for several hundred to a few thousand each. Ben had quite a bit of homework to do.</p>
<p>As he prepared to leave, with the promise to follow up early next week, the wife handed him his first payment. “I’ll be honest with you, Bill was solely into this style of art,” she said. “I’m more attracted to the Impressionists.”</p>
<p>“I know brokers who may be able to help if you want to buy.” Ben folded the check and slipped it into his coat pocket. He tried not to flinch when the wife touched his arm.</p>
<p>She handed him a business card. “Perhaps we could connect after this is over? My new house is rather empty and in need of some color.”</p>
<p><em>Riiight.</em> Ben thanked her and walked fast to his car. He waited until pulling out of the long, curved driveway before letting out a nervous laugh. “Holy hell,” he cried. Maybe it was all in his head, but he had to wonder if he’d make a better living as a paid escort.</p>
<p><em>Don’t flatter yourself, Solo.</em> Only one woman’s opinion of him mattered, and she wasn’t yet home. He parked where she’d suggested in her last text, found the hidden key, and let himself in. The home she shared with Rose Tico appeared slightly larger than his place, with enough room for the gift he’d brought.</p>
<p>Ben set the two easels -- one tabletop and one freestanding -- and the painting kit they’d used with her first lesson along her bedroom wall. He’d also brought her first painting, a blank canvas, and containers of white primer and linseed oil -- everything she needed to set up a small home studio. His backpack with a change of clothes, shaving kit, and laptop went on the bed.</p>
<p>The extra gifts, he set to hide in plain sight. If Rey was willing, they might have a little fun. The last item, not art related, he kept in his pants pocket.</p>
<p>He checked his watch when Rey texted her ETA and figured he had some time to sketch.</p>
<p>Rey lived within walking distance of the ocean. Ben grabbed his pad and walked toward Pacific Avenue with the intent of crossing close to the boardwalk when he experienced a change of heart. The old Cavalier Hotel came into view and caught his attention. He’d driven past it coming down, but had taken a back road. He’d missed its pre-Depression charm for all the new homes built around it. Now, coming around to the facade fronting the main road, the restored resort held him in awe.</p>
<p>Nowhere proper to sit and draw, however. Ben contented himself with scaling the raised lawn and sat on the grass. He let Rey know where to find him in case the sketch took him too deep into the zone.</p>
<p>Some time later, as he added finishing touches to his rendition of the Y-shaped building, a shadow fell on his pad. Rey stood before him in jeans and a loose blouse. “You should see the inside of it,” she said. “It’s like you’re walking into <em>The Great Gatsby</em>.”</p>
<p>“How long have I been out here?”</p>
<p>Rey shrugged. “You tell me. I got home at five-thirty. Came straight here after I changed clothes.”</p>
<p>Ben nodded up at the long enclosed portico, built to face the ocean in the 1920s. Now, it looked out at more construction, namely the modern companion private club across the street. Still, not a terrible view. “They have a nice setup of loungers up there, and I just got paid.” He’d scanned the check into his bank app earlier. “Buy you a drink?”</p>
<p>“Buy me two. I’ll need them to tell you about my day.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>They claimed a loveseat lounger at the corner window, overlooking a sliver of the Atlantic between two buildings on the Oceanfront. A server brought drinks and they propped their feet on a wide ottoman, cuddled together. They watched the sky streak into red and orange and eventually darken, talking about everything and nothing.</p>
<p>In the midst of it, Ben spoke of the day’s appraisal work, and Rey summarized all her communications, beginning with John’s. “He says he will contact the Mothmas’ lawyer on my behalf. The station sent him pictures of the certificate. Do you think they’ll ask me to return the seascape?”</p>
<p>Ben sipped his whiskey. “My thought is, that would be a PR nightmare for them. Too many people have seen those Tik Tok videos. Word gets out they want the painting back, there will be backlash.” He brushed his lips against her temple. “However, what I can do is reach out to the station to see if Mom ever replaced the painting. If not, I’ll see what I can send them,” he said.</p>
<p>Rey’s body warmed at that. “You’d give them one from the collection?”</p>
<p>“I have others that belong to me that aren’t part of the foundation’s inventory,” he said, then laughed. “Maybe I can talk them into letting me paint something new for them.”</p>
<p>Well, this was news. “You been holding out on me, Solo? These are pictures not from the show or manuals? Never before seen in public?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Mom gave me birthday gifts, too.” His countenance softened a bit. “I put them away after she died. For a while it was painful to look at them, but maybe it’s time to hang them up again. I don’t know why some of her paintings are harder to look at than others. I suppose it’s because those were gifts to me. Next time you come up we’ll get them out of storage.”</p>
<p>“I would love to help with that.” It thrilled her that Ben was willing to share another personal aspect of his life. Their growing transparency gave her comfort and lifted her heart. Which meant she ought to be as open with him. “You were rather quiet when I talked about my phone conversation with Phasma Scyre.”</p>
<p>Ben didn’t look directly at her, but stared into his drink. He set down the glass and focused on the scenery before them for a moment before speaking. “Rey, I want you there. I’ll admit, I’m not hyped up about this event, but if it helps move along this film negotiation…” He twined his fingers with hers. “It’s fine that Phasma invited you separately, but I don’t want you thinking I’ve asked you along as a shield,” he said.</p>
<p>“I don’t think that, Ben.”</p>
<p>“I want you to come as my girlfriend,” he said, looking at her. “Though, I should ask first if you want to be my --”</p>
<p>Rey confirmed it with a kiss. She held him close, tasting the sweet maple finish from Ben’s drink and sorely tempted to suggest they get a room, because even walking the short distance home seemed too long to wait.</p>
<p>“So that’s a yes?” he asked after breaking away.</p>
<p>Rey raised a hand to smack him and he ducked, laughing. She watched him reach into pocket for a small velvet bag.</p>
<p>“It’s as good a time as any to give you this, then.” He loosened the pull string and tipped the bag into his palm. A silver ring bearing a long, polished turquoise oval tumbled out. Rey gasped.</p>
<p>“Ben, this is the one your mother wore on the show?” She let him slide it on. It fit perfectly.</p>
<p>He nodded. “Interesting story about my parents. They met at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Dad proposed right there; she thought he was high. He said he wasn’t one to waste time, and he sure as hell refused to let somebody else snag her,” he said. “So she called his bluff, ‘Where’s the ring?’ she asks. He walks her down to the gift shop and buys her that. Twenty-five dollar ring, she wore it until the day she died.”</p>
<p>Rey admired the stone, a brilliant blue-green streaked with thin black veins. So this had been an engagement ring of sorts. As a friendship ring, it was a beautiful gift. “I love it, Ben. Thank you.”</p>
<p>Ben nipped her ear. “Did you happen to see what I left in your room?”</p>
<p>“I did. When’s my next lesson?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Whenever you want.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>3/6/21: Thank you for the kind words and kudos so far. As of this date, the work is finished. Just putting it through edits before it is all released. Today is a two-chapter update.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>That night, they opted for a more unorthodox method of the wet-on-wet technique. Ben set up the desktop easel on a milk crate Rey used to store books. Rey sat on the drop cloth covering the carpet, wearing only her underwear and one of Ben’s old dress shirts as a smock, while Ben -- in his boxer briefs -- lay next to her and gave instructions.</p>
<p>His bare chest and abdomen served as the palette, and though Ben assured her the paints weren’t toxic Rey insisted on a barrier. Ben conceded to the layer of plastic wrap separating the paint from his skin. “Look at it this way,” she said, mixing a touch of brown and red on one of his pecs, “it makes cleanup easier.”</p>
<p>“Not as much fun, though,” Ben said.</p>
<p>“These oils aren’t edible, as I recall.”</p>
<p>Ben squirmed as she added more mixed paint to her brush. “Gotcha. Try lengthening that branch. Let’s give some more depth here.”</p>
<p>Rey followed his direction. A few more touches, following a switch from the fan brush to the palette knife, helped make the foreground tree pop. Behind it, her second attempt at a mountain rose over a line of smaller fir trees. She preferred this version to her first, and harbored no regrets over priming this canvas to reuse. Rey decided if she continued well tonight, this effort would serve as the picture to which she’d compare her later work.</p>
<p>“One day, I’d like to draw people.” Rey scraped a dollop of blue from above Ben’s navel and touched up the sky. “Like on the seascape. When I first saw it at Mon Mothma’s house, I thought maybe somebody else had painted it. I don’t recall seeing your mother painting people on the show.”</p>
<p>“She didn’t. That lost episode was the only instance of it, and I did the painting. Couldn’t really tell you why she never revisited it.” Ben propped himself on his elbows to better see Rey’s progress. “You’re getting good at this.”</p>
<p>She smiled, pleased with herself. Not quite ready to draw humans or animals yet, but Ben had promised her a lifetime supply of paint. “Did your mother draw like you?” she asked. “Like your sketches?”</p>
<p>“Oh, sure. I have whole books of her drawings. She’d originally gone to school to study graphic design. Been holding onto them for the museum.” Ben lay back. While Rey focused on touching up her mountain she heard him curse, and looked down to where he’d accidentally folded his hands over the various spots of oil paint. He held up multi-colored fingers and grimaced, then wiped them down Rey’s back.</p>
<p>“Careful!” The movement nearly caused her to jerk the wrong color across the canvas, and she laughed out loud. “If you mess me up you have to fix it.”</p>
<p>“There’s no such thing as messing up with these paintings, you know that,” Ben said. He inched closer and put his hand around her, resting it on her exposed leg. Rey pointed out a spot of red that had landed on the foreground tree. “It’s not a mistake. It’s just a leaf that decided to turn early. Here, add a little more to it.”</p>
<p>With a few small adjustments, the bushy front tree turned out a spectrum of late summer to early fall color. Rey liked the result even more than her earlier attempt. “Thank you,” she said, and reached for the touch-up brush. “I will sign this one. I think we may also have gone over the two hours.”</p>
<p>“I haven’t noticed,” Ben said. “I won’t count it against you.”</p>
<p>Rey painted her last name in the lower right corner. “Would you show me your mother’s sketches one day? Or are they private?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I can do that. They were mainly practice, nothing she would have minded showing off if asked.” Ben tugged at the cling wrap and rolled it off his chest. “She liked to draw my dad, and me. So expect a lot of that.”</p>
<p>She’d love to have a drawing of Ben. Maybe if she asked nicely. “I should clean the brushes,” she said, and got to work. Ben helped with the paints and as she looked for a good spot to keep everything she noticed the reusable shopping bag by the bed. “What’s all that?”</p>
<p>Ben sat cross-legged on the drop cloth. “I was wondering if you’d notice those. Take ‘em out and see.”</p>
<p>He was referring to the jugs of latex body paint -- one black, one blue -- and the variety of smaller tubes. Ben had also included a few wide foam brushes, small paint rollers, and a bottle of lotion in the package.</p>
<p>Rey turned giddy at the prospect of using everything in the bag. And she was off tomorrow, so why wait to start the party? She held Ben’s devilish smile with one she hoped rivaled it. “You’re going to paint me again, all over?”</p>
<p>“Actually,” he said, “I was hoping you would paint me first.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Ben wanted to test patch Rey before going too far. This paint differed from what he used last time, and he’d worn the latex himself in the past. He wanted to enjoy the experience with Rey without a trip to the ER.</p>
<p>“By the time you’re done with me, we should know if you’re okay. A few things to know before you apply the paint,” Ben held the lotion bottle, “this goes on first, but not too much. It helps to peel off the paint when you’re done.” He took the jug of black paint and shook it hard. “The paint dries fast, and you want to apply about three layers to get the color you want.</p>
<p>“I didn’t shave under my arms, so I’m thinking we keep it simple for me,” he added. “You have to be careful if you get this stuff on hair.”</p>
<p>Rey sorted through the different colored tubes. Ben had a varied collection of neon and pearlescent hues in addition to solid color. “Can you put this stuff on your privates?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Some people do, but when I did these gigs I encouraged the models to wear shields. I put some in the bag.” Ben tugged one handle toward him and fished out a plastic baggie, pulling out from it something that looked like a large bandage shaped like a distorted hourglass. “It’s kind of like a strapless thong. It’s designed to look seamless under the paint. I have nipple shields, too. They make the effect smoother.”</p>
<p>Rey inspected the one he gave her, looking disappointed. “Kind of takes away the kink aspect a bit,” she said. “I was looking forward to painting your cock.”</p>
<p>He shook his head, smiling. “That’s an advanced lesson.” In all honesty, if Rey tried that he’d probably come after the first brush application. He flipped open the top of the lotion bottle but Rey stopped him before he squeezed any on his palm.</p>
<p>“No,” she said, chiding, “that’s my job. Really, Ben, you’re going to apply that yourself when a massage therapist is sitting right in front of you?”</p>
<p>Chagrined, he surrendered the bottle. “Just the torso, please. Feel free to take your time.” Ben sat on the drop cloth and let Rey straddle his thighs during the process. It proved a nice warm-up for his skin, though Ben had difficulty not pausing frequently to kiss her.</p>
<p>The actual painting on his chest and back occurred with less carnality. It was clear Rey enjoyed every moment and wanted to get it right the first time. Using the guide Ben pulled up on his phone -- a photo of an old magazine shoot -- Rey diligently brushed on the black and white paints in even coats, using the outline Ben drew on himself to create the sleeveless tuxedo shirt and jacket.</p>
<p>True to his word, the paint dried quickly. Ben looked down at Rey’s handiwork. “Looks great. I’m sure I could pass easily for a waiter in a male strip joint.”</p>
<p>Rey scooted back for a better look. “You were right about the shields. I can barely see them.” She touched her fingertips to where Ben had affixed one of the thin bandages covering his nipples. The effect made him look like a Ken doll with painted-on clothes. “How does it feel, overall?”</p>
<p>“Weird, but it’s been a while. I’ll get used to it.” The latex paint was breathable, he knew, so he didn’t expect discomfort. He called up other pictures in his phone gallery, showing Rey other examples of his work. “What would you like done?”</p>
<p>Rey scrolled through the selection of curvy cosplay models, most done all over in paint. She opted for a simpler design, similar to a one-piece swimsuit with the pearlescent colors.</p>
<p>“I’ll need you to stand for this job,” Ben said, “since I’ll have to get your backside and between your legs. Still sitting, he leaned into the bag to retrieve the colors needed for the prismatic scales she wanted done on her chest. “Make sure you moisturize wel --”</p>
<p>He sat up, now eye-level with Rey’s bare mound. He looked up. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The design Ben does in this chapter is loosely inspired by this photo, to give you a visual.</p>
<p>https://www.pinterest.com/pin/119063983882563424/</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This man was a fucking genius.</p>
<p>It took longer than her painting lesson, and for all Rey knew it was three in the morning, but she after seeing what Ben had done to her body she wanted to go out. Somebody else had to see this.</p>
<p>Ben had extended the paint up to her throat, blending colors to make it look like her natural skin tone gradually deepened into the shining blues, yellows, and greens painted in a tortoiseshell pattern on her décolletage. He’d used the black paint to border the design in a wide V-shape and added a layer of shimmering white to give a nice effect.</p>
<p>Down her back, she saw as she turned to see in the mirror, the black paint held the same sparkling starfield motif, but he’d painted a colorful spine to match the front.</p>
<p>“For this, I don’t mind taking full pictures.” Ben obliged with shots on her phone and his. Rey looked down at her breasts, glad she’d listened about the shields. His work was seamless.</p>
<p>“How long can this stay on?” she asked.</p>
<p>Ben began putting everything away. “Until you want to peel it off.” He scratched at his neck, and bits of his latex tux flaked off. “This is ammonia free, it’s probably the safest brand out there. I don’t think you want it on for weeks, though.”</p>
<p>The bag packed, he stood to his full height, looking both ridiculous and sexy in the painted jacket and boxer briefs. “Give me more time for Halloween and I’ll do better.”</p>
<p>“Better than this? Ben, you know I love it.” She pressed forward and kissed him, her hand on his chest. The paint didn’t come off, even when part of her design touched his. This was promising.</p>
<p>Movement sounded from the other side of Rey’s bedroom door, then laughter. Rose was home, and not alone. Rey put a finger to her lips and peered out to see her roommate and Armie in the galley kitchen going through the fridge.</p>
<p>She used the door to hide her bodywork. “What did you guys do tonight? This morning?”</p>
<p>“Dinner and a late movie. We were just heading in,” Rose said. They came around the partition with a bottle and wine and glasses. “I take it you’re not alone, either.”</p>
<p>Rey opened the door wider for the big reveal. Armitage nearly dropped a glass.</p>
<p>“Whoa!” Rose’s eyes widened. She came closer and touched Rey’s shoulder, rubbing her fingers to check for residue. “He did that to you?”</p>
<p>Ben appeared in the doorway, now wearing his sleep shorts. “It’s only fair. She did this to me.”</p>
<p>That brought a more amused reaction, but Rose recovered long enough to ask, “There any paint left?”</p>
<p>Ben handed her tubes of neon green and orange. “Test patch your skin and read the instructions, please.”</p>
<p>After a quick goodnight, Rose’s door closed on two very giddy expressions. Rey turned her head. “Was that wise? They also had wine.”</p>
<p>“As long as they don’t eat it. Speaking of…”</p>
<p>Ben pulled her back and closed the door, pressing her against for a deep, searching kiss that had her pussy twitching on the adhesive shield between her thighs. He lowered his hands around to cup her behind and bring her up to wrap her legs around his waist.</p>
<p>Breaking free, he pressed his lips to her temple and mussed up her hair. “I know you want to keep this on as long as possible, but I was thinking --”</p>
<p>Of course Rey would concede. “Just the one part,” she said, anticipating the sight of his face buried at the edge of his colorful landscape.</p>
<p>Ben supported her with one arm and raised his free hand to touch one of the smooth shields covering her nipple. “Is that all. Because…”</p>
<p>She swatted away the hand and they nearly collapsed. “Careful,” he said, and carried her over to her bed. Ben set her to lean over the edge, perched on the mattress, while he knelt before her. “Hang on.” He mentioned he needed his bag, and Rey told him not to worry about it.</p>
<p>“I’m on the shot,” she reminded him, and she was clean. So was he. They’d had the discussion earlier in the week, but she appreciated Ben wanting to be cautious. Almost as much as his reaction on knowing there didn’t have to be barriers tonight, except for this paint.</p>
<p>Ben laid a kiss on the thin shield covering her mons. “This might hurt, and I want to go slow so I don’t do too much damage,” he said. Rey braced herself for bandage-ripping pain, but relaxed as Ben used one fingernail to cut a line across the top of the shield. Slowly, he peeled away the strip while managing to keep the borders of the paint job smooth and in place.</p>
<p>Rey spread her legs when prompted as Ben separated the strip from her labia, then turned so he could remove the rest of it from her body. The result was a bare strip of skin starting with a triangular patch below her navel, ending at a smaller one just above her ass. She stood before him, slightly bent, and let out a long sigh when he traced the edge of the starfield design over her left cheek with his tongue.</p>
<p>“You ever have your ass eaten?” he asked.</p>
<p>“No,” she said. “Never done anal, either.” She nearly knelt down right there at the thought of having both done to her.</p>
<p>“Would you like to, either or both? Doesn’t have to be tonight.”</p>
<p>Rey was about to answer when she heard voices through the walls, followed by a steady thumping. No intelligible words that she could discern, but it was obvious somebody in the next room was having a good time.</p>
<p>Ben turned his head. “What the hell are they doing?”</p>
<p>“I warned you about giving them the paint.” Rey took the moment’s distraction to turn around in Ben’s grasp and hook one leg over his shoulder.</p>
<p>Ben looked at her bare pussy, then up at her, and smiled. “We’ll come back to that later,” he told her before diving.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>She liked it a certain way, he figured out. First, wet foreplay with long, broad strokes up and down her pussy, with alternating attention between tracing her cunt and up to lick a figure-eight around her clit. He’d listen for changes in her tone, knowing that when she drew out her voice in a long, low whine it was time to make her come.</p>
<p>That meant dragging the flat of his tongue from bottom to top and pursing his lips around her clit, sucking in gently until she fell apart. To make the moment last, he’d put in two fingers and rubbed her spot. He used his free hand to explore his design, moving it up to stroke one of her breasts. Though the nipple shield helped with the aesthetic beauty of her paint, it took away the added stimulation she might have enjoyed had he access to that sensitive area. Ben made up for it by slipping in a third finger.</p>
<p>“Ben.” Rey bucked against his face and he rode with her. “I need your cock in me now.”</p>
<p>Ben lifted Rey further back on the bed, then stood to remove his shorts. He’d had enough of his own paint job, and figured a brief show would enhance the mood. He drew one finger down the center of his chest, starting where the paint ended, and created a tear. He relished the pleased expression on Rey’s face as he pulled the front part of his tuxedo paint apart and away from his body in two stretched out swatches.</p>
<p>“Maybe you should have been a stripper,” she said with a laugh.</p>
<p>He moved Rey’s thighs apart, positioned his cock, and slid home. This...this was perfect. Rey’s face changed immediately from amused to aroused and he fixed his gaze on her the entire time he was inside her. He imprinted that look, saving it for later.</p>
<p>“Do you mind,” he asked, “if I draw you like this?”</p>
<p>“Me wearing the body paint?”</p>
<p>He shook his head. “Your face. The way you’re looking at me right now while we’re making love.” The idea of it spurred him to rock his hips faster against her.</p>
<p>“Yes.” Rey tilted her head back and closed her eyes. “I wish I could do the same.”</p>
<p>“You will,” Ben told her. “I’ll show you how. Rey, I love you.”</p>
<p>“Ben, I love you, too,” she whispered, and pressed her hands to his face to draw him close for a long kiss. Ben felt the hard band of the ring he’d given her against the back of his head when she slid her hand to keep him in place.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content notes: Extremely gratuitous sex smut scene that does absolutely nothing to advance the plot, aka "Freddy Gets Fingered".</p>
<p>Happy Monday.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rey woke first, and checked her sheets for any sign of paint residue. No stains, and no streaks on the design, either. She did, however, notice a few wrinkles from where her body had contorted in the night. While she’d have liked to keep the “outfit” on another day, they’d had their fun. They’d have more peeling this stuff off her body.</p>
<p>Ben lay on his stomach, stripped, facing away from her and out cold. She hadn’t realized last night how much of the bed he took up by virtue of his size. If these visits were to become regular, she’d have to consider an upgrade.</p>
<p>The back of the painted-on tuxedo remained. Ben looked like somebody had charcoaled his back and forgotten to flip him over to finish cooking. Rey tested his consciousness with a short tap on his shoulder but he twitched without waking. She wondered if she’d be able to peel away the latex while he slept.</p>
<p>Success. It came off in strips. The latex layers felt like fruit leather, the kind you found in your lunchbox at school. Rey stacked them together and rolled them into a thick cylinder, which she tossed on her night stand. She’d ask Ben about a proper way to dispose of it. Now, one look at his broad, bare back inspired her to take care of him.</p>
<p>She slipped out of bed long enough to retrieve her massage oil, and knelt beside him. Ben felt less knotted up this time. Still tense in places, but nothing as bad as their first turn. She detected, too, that he’d kept to better hydration habits. His kidneys would thank him for that.</p>
<p>“Morning,” he mumbled, face pressed into the mattress.</p>
<p>“Hope you don’t mind,” she said, still kneading on him. “You lie on your stomach, you’re too much of a temptation.”</p>
<p>“I am fine with you touching, massaging, sucking, poking and prodding anywhere you want. Consider this my blanket consent, just no needles or knives.”</p>
<p>Rey straddled the backs of his thighs, moving her oiled hands to the small of his back. “Poking and prodding, you say?”</p>
<p>“Kind of like what I do to you, but...different,” he said.</p>
<p>“I see.” She would learn something new today. Rey pushed her thumbs into him along either side of his lower vertebrae. “You’ve had it done to you before.”</p>
<p>Ben mumbled an <em>uh-huh</em> into the sheets.</p>
<p>“So...you’re bi?”</p>
<p>“No.” He lifted his face to deliver that answer. “Are you?”</p>
<p>“No. Disappointed?”</p>
<p>“Are you?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Actually, yes.”</p>
<p>Ben craned his neck to attempt looking at her. “Sorry about that. I did kiss Poe once, but that was a gag. Other than that, I’ve only dated a few rather adventurous women in my time.”</p>
<p>Rey pressed harder, eliciting a pained warning from Ben. “Should I take that to mean I don’t rank among the adventurous?”</p>
<p>“I never said that,” Ben said. “May I remind you that you kissed a stranger on public television? That definitely puts you in the top five.”</p>
<p>Another push. Another cry. “Three! Top three,” Ben conceded.</p>
<p>“So, how do I move up?” Yet, as the words spilled, Rey knew the answer. Poking and prodding. She scooted further down his legs and bent low to bite him on the tush. Ben twitched, his reaction not wholly disturbed.</p>
<p>“What are you planning?” he asked, his tone cautious.</p>
<p>Rey said nothing at first, just squeezed more oil into her palm and coated her fingers. “It’s not so much a plan as it is a spontaneous decision,” she said, and moved one hand down between his thighs where she massaged his scrotum. “You saw me at the arcade. I don’t like to be knocked off the top spot.”</p>
<p>“I’m aware of that.” Ben moved his arms from his sides to parallel to his head. One clutched a pillow and the other the side of her headboard, presumably for support.</p>
<p>Rey slid her fingers back, finding his back hole. Slowly, she pushed in one oiled finger. He was tight; apparently this wasn’t a common practice for him. “Funny thing about spots,” she said, “is that if you stroke one the right way...good things happen.”</p>
<p>Ben exhaled loudly and shifted his arms again, planting his elbows at chest level and pushing up his torso, as though planking.</p>
<p>“Am I close?” Rey pushed in deeper. She’d never done this to a partner, and had to admit the small act of domination gave her a thrill.</p>
<p>“Close.” Ben’s voice came out strangled. “Shit, that feels amazing.”</p>
<p>Rey knew enough from her studies where to find the prostate. Knowing whether or not she had his in reach...hard to say. She hooked her finger and massaged him from the inside, watching him writhe. She squirted a few drops of oil on his back, then wet her other hand and slid it under him to reach his cock.</p>
<p>Yep, nice and hard. Ben raised his hips to allow her better access, and she stroked in slow motion. “So, what would you say was your best orgasm, to this point?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Rey.” Ben called out her name in a long moan. “I can’t remember my middle name right now.”</p>
<p>“I don’t need dates, Ben.” Rey straddled one leg now, widening her own so she could swipe her pussy back and forth, putting friction on her clit. Ben seemed to like that as well. “Do you recall, at least, how it happened? Were you being sucked off, or fucking somebody’s ass...or something like this?”</p>
<p>The writhing strengthened. Rey thought he might jackknife off the bed with the right touch. She paced the simultaneous motions a bit faster and pressed her clit down hard on his leg. “Maybe,” she said, “later this week I’ll go up to the Pink Banana and get something for the trip. A massager,” oh, he twitched at that, “or a plug.”</p>
<p>Ben was pushing back into her now. His fists had turned white from clutching the fitted sheet. She leaned to one side to better see his face. Mouth open, breathing shallow, eyes closed. He wanted to come so bad.</p>
<p>“Keep talking,” he said, perhaps because he couldn’t. It sounded like he barely got that out.</p>
<p>“I know,” Rey said. “I’ll get a harness with a strap-on. Would you like that, Ben?”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh.” He pitched high. She put on the heat.</p>
<p>“Would you like me to strap on a cock and fuck your ass?” she asked. The idea of it got her excited as well, but working on Ben made it difficult for her to get off. One thing a time. “How do you want it, huh? Bend you over a chair, or lay you on your back…”</p>
<p>Ben began to breathe hard. He pushed down with his hands and lifted up, like the serpent yoga stretch.</p>
<p>“On your back, knees to your chest, me pounding into you…”</p>
<p>Bingo. Ben let out the loudest instance of the F-word in the history of cursing, and exploded in her hand. Rey kept her hands in motion, milking his cock and keeping the pressure on his spot until he begged her to stop. He rolled over into his own mess, gasping for air while Rey pulled back her hand, sticky with his cum.</p>
<p>With one finger, she wrote her first name in block letters on his chest. “Top score.”</p>
<p>“Cute,” he said. “If I could move my arms, I’d rip those nipple shields right off.”</p>
<p>A series of texts jingled on Rey’s phone. “Don’t move,” she told him. While he groaned, she snuggled into him and read off Rose’s demand aloud.</p>
<p>
  <em>da fuck ru doin 2 that man?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>armie wants 2 kno</em>
  <br/>
  <em>so i can do it 2 him</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The time between Ben’s weekend stay and the day of their trip, mercifully, passed with great speed. The night before the drive to New York, Rey came up to stay over at Ben’s. When she pulled into the guest parking spot at his complex, she saw him packing a rolling suitcase into the back of an SUV.</p>
<p>“Uncle Chewie’s loaning us his ride,” he explained after they kissed hello. “Long as we don’t mess with his radio presets we should be fine. Can I pack this, or do you need it tonight?”</p>
<p>“It needs to go in.” The shoulder strap of Rey’s bag slid down her arm and Ben caught it. The zipper was open a bit and he caught a glimpse of the telltale pink gift bag tucked inside. “What’s this?”</p>
<p>“A surprise, for the trip. No peeking,” Rey said. She peered into the SUV’s back space and saw a wooden crate alongside Ben’s luggage. “And those are Maz’s paintings?”</p>
<p>“All ten. I’m still nervous about taking them, but hopefully we’ll bring back ten.” Ben put his arm around her and pulled her tight. “You sure you want to bring yours along?”</p>
<p>Rey nodded. “I’m confident it will be fine, especially after John’s phone call yesterday.” Mon Mothma’s heirs, after receiving word about the likelihood of their mother stealing the painting based on her former employer’s willingness to testify, dropped all claims. The station had also reached out to Ben to inform them that Leia had sent a replacement years ago, so Rey owned the seascape outright. As she had since the estate sale.</p>
<p>“Did you get it out of storage or are we going there now?” she asked.</p>
<p>Ben hoisted her bag and nodded toward his apartment. “I want to show you something. Don’t be mad.”</p>
<p>Ominous. But she followed him into his bedroom. When she saw what he’d done, her heart stopped for a second. Above his headboard, he’d hung Leia’s painting next to his.</p>
<p>Practically twins. The signatures told them apart.</p>
<p>“Ben,” she said, awed.</p>
<p>“Yours will come down soon. I just wanted to see them side by side, one more time,” he said, folding his arms. “This is the first time they’ve been in the same room in twenty years.”</p>
<p>Rey moved onto the bed, kneeling for a closer look. “Still hard to believe you weren’t even a teenager. We should take both of them to New York.”</p>
<p>“We can if you want. I’ll tell you a secret. Part of me kind of wanted to mess up on the show,” he said. “I didn’t want to think I might peak at such a young age.”</p>
<p>Rey turned to sit cross-legged on the bed. “Do you think you’ve peaked since?”</p>
<p>“I hoped it would come when the museum opened,” he said. “It’s been a long climb.”</p>
<p>Rey patted the mattress next to her and he joined her on the bed. “Well, if you need help getting things up…”</p>
<p>If Maz had left out dinner for them that night, neither one checked their phones or the front door.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Early the next morning, Ben and Rey embarked on a true test of their relationship -- an approximately four-hundred-mile drive to New York City. Opting for the interstate route, the trip would take them through heavy traffic spots in D.C. and Baltimore, hence the early wake up call.</p>
<p>Rey used Ben’s Keurig to fill two travel coffee mugs, yawning. “Will this be enough?”</p>
<p>“To get out of town, sure.” Ben bent his head over his phone, presumably texting Maz to say they were off. “We should have picked up an IV bag last night.”</p>
<p>Once on the road, the grumpiness faded thanks to their early start. They made it around the dual beltways of the capital and Baltimore in good time and didn’t stop for a break until Delaware. On the Jersey Turnpike, Ben’s phone rang a 203 area code.</p>
<p>“That’s Connecticut,” Rey said after looking it up on her phone. “Robocall, you think?”</p>
<p>Ben shook his head. “Not what my gut’s telling me.” He asked Rey to put it on speaker and greeted the caller.</p>
<p>“Ben, it’s your Uncle Luke.”</p>
<p>Ben kept his eyes, widened more, on the road. Rey tried for his attention, casting a look she hoped had asked <em>Do I take this off speaker?</em> Ben jerked his head, indicating she put the phone in the drink holder.</p>
<p>“Hello, Luke,” he said. “You’re on speaker and I’m not alone. I’m on the Turnpike.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine, kid.” A sigh came across as a static roar. “Look, I know it’s been a while since we’ve spoken.”</p>
<p>Ben rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>“I understand from this actress friend of yours that you wanted to vet any appearance of mine in this film she’s making. Well...I suppose in order to do that you’d have to reach out,” Luke said.</p>
<p>“It’s...well, it wasn’t the highest task on my list,” Ben said. “It’s no slight against you.” He began to look increasingly uncomfortable, the thickening traffic didn’t help. Even Rey felt closed in despite the spacious vehicle.</p>
<p>“It’s fine, I get it. Ben,” Luke said. “I was invited to this thing Lando is putting on. I wasn’t planning to come. I didn’t want you to think anybody was trying to ambush you...but I would like to see you.”</p>
<p>Ben shot her a look of mixed concern and confusion. They were past Philadelphia now with a service plaza coming up. Rey pointed to the exit sign and Ben eased off the road.</p>
<p>“Luke, hang on a sec.” Once in a parking spot, he grabbed the phone and took it off speaker. “Can I ask who invited you? Uh-huh.” He listened some. “Well, we have an AirBnb in Brooklyn...that’s a bit far. It’s not entirely my decision, either...I know. I’ll ask and let you know. Sure, goodbye.”</p>
<p>Rey undid her seat belt and turned full toward him. “Phasma?”</p>
<p>“Lando,” Ben said. “I was almost ready to turn this battleship around.” He tapped his phone against his palm. “Lando adored Mom. I got the impression he would have made a move some time after Dad died, but she was too deep in mourning so I guess he let it go. I suppose this is his way of meaning well.”</p>
<p>“I get from that call he wants us to stay with him.”</p>
<p>Ben nodded. “My uncle lives in Stamford, and he’s a complete stranger. I was in elementary school when I saw him last. I don’t even know what he looks like anymore,” he said. “I don’t think I have anything to say to him, either.”</p>
<p>“I wish I knew what to tell you. It’s like, every day you’re being hit with something new.”</p>
<p>Ben reached for her hand and squeezed. “What’s weird is...it’s not all bad things. Why do I expect bad things to happen? My mother’s brother could turn out to be a nice guy.”</p>
<p>“People wronged you and your mother for a number of years,” Rey said. “I’m not saying your uncle did, but you need time to build trust again.”</p>
<p>“It was so easy with you, though.”</p>
<p>Rey turned her hand in his to show off the ring. “I was never out to screw you,” she said. After a beat she added, “You know what I mean.”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Ben laughed, then put the SUV into gear. “Let’s go to Brooklyn.”</p>
<p>“Let’s go to Brooklyn.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>3/13/21: Posting the remainder of this story today in order to work on other WIPs. Hope you have enjoyed it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The exact location of their AirBnb stymied the SUV’s GPS, but they eventually found the efficiency they’d reserved. The building sat between downtown Brooklyn and the Gowanus Canal, an ideal starting point for long explorations on foot. Because parking came at a premium, Ben wanted the paintings in a safe place before putting the SUV in a garage.</p>
<p>“We’re going to pay more to park this weekend than for this place,” he said, setting their luggage down in their room. At least he could write off the payment as a travel expense.</p>
<p>“Par for the course, I suppose.” Rey looked out the window at the mass of urban development. “I’ve never been to any part of New York. I was always tempted to take a Chinatown bus, just never followed through.”</p>
<p>“No? I used to do that a lot. Maybe next trip when we don’t have to lug so much stuff.” Ben came up behind her, bringing his arms around her waist. When he pulled her close a buzzing in his pocket spoiled the growing amorous mood, rather than enhanced it. He opened the text from Lando inviting him to set up at the annex for tomorrow’s event. The room would be secured overnight.</p>
<p>“Looks like our evening is planned,” Ben told her.</p>
<p>“I can’t wait to meet him,” Rey said. “I loved him on your mother’s show.”</p>
<p>“Most women have.” Even at a young age, Ben knew of “Uncle” Lando’s charm. He vowed to keep Rey close tonight.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Lando Calrissian looked no different from his last <em>Painting Joy</em> appearance, just a touch of gray at the temples. He greeted Ben at the loading bay area of the annex, giving him a hug that Ben seemed slow to return. He then turned to Rey with a two-handed shake.</p>
<p>“When I saw that clip on the Internet, I had a feeling,” he said, low in her ear while Ben unloaded the paintings. “How’s he been?”</p>
<p>“I have no complaints,” Rey said, and wondered how the older man might interpret that. He answered with a wide grin before offering to help with the crates.</p>
<p>“Before you go in, I want to let you know Phasma is inside with her director,” Lando said. “I talked to Maz.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine. This was inevitable.” Ben flicked his gaze to Rey, as though to gain strength from their proximity. “Is anybody else in there I ought to know about?”</p>
<p>“A camera crew, the director, Phasma’s personal assistant. Everybody else is coming tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Ben hefted the crate in his hands and they followed Lando through the service door. “I’ll text my uncle, tell him it’s all right if he wants to drive in,” he told Rey. “I don’t really have a reason to hide from him, or anybody else.”</p>
<p>Rey had both seascapes, wrapped for safety. “Everything’s going to be fine. This looks like a big place. If things get too uncomfortable we’ll set up a signal and find an escape room,” she said. “You can tug on one of your ears.”</p>
<p>“How about I just say, ‘Let’s get the fuck out of here?’”</p>
<p>“Also viable.”</p>
<p>The room Lando used for his class was of a modest size, a bit larger than an average classroom but spacious enough to accommodate about fifty or more people. Lando’s easel and oils were set up in front, before a large screen where Rey presumed the show would be projected.</p>
<p>Phasma was painting at present, while a camera operator with a stabilizer recorded her every move. Lando explained her director planned to use the closeups for the film. “I don’t know if it’s part of the opening credits or he’s going to edit them in scenes from this event,” he added. “This dude is nothing like the people who worked on Leia’s show.”</p>
<p>“It’s a different ballgame,” Ben said and set down the crate. “Do they want to film us uncrating these, too, or…”</p>
<p>“That’s an excellent idea.” A thin, grinning gentleman came forward, attention solely on Ben. “Enric Pryde, director. I’m honored to be a part of this project.”</p>
<p>Ben’s expression sent the message <em>Don’t fuck this up</em>, but his words proved more diplomatic. He introduced Rey, and Mr. Pryde gave her a lascivious smile. “Of course. The kiss seen around the world.”</p>
<p>Rey was grateful to have both hands on the seascapes. No way to slap the man.</p>
<p>“We’re finishing up with Phasma now and I’ll send Klaud over with the camera to capture this. Then we’ll go over additional scenes. So much to do tonight.” And he was off to direct elsewhere.</p>
<p>Ben’s tone took on rising annoyance. “I wasn’t aware there would be filming tonight,” he said. “We haven’t finalized everything yet.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t, either. I’m sorry,” Lando said with a shrug. “Phasma is one determined lady, let me tell you. She practically checked above the doors for dust, that’s how perfect she wants this.”</p>
<p>“Is she filming those, too?” Rey asked. That lightened the mood, for so long. When Phasma approached in her spotted smock over elegant slacks, Ben shifted closer and put his arm around Rey.</p>
<p><em>This is it.</em> They were public now. Though it wasn’t like they went out of their way to hide.</p>
<p>Phasma slowed, her smile fading a bit on seeing the two of them so close together. “What a pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face,” she told Rey. “Congratulations again. Is that what I think it is?” She pointed to the package in Rey’s hands.</p>
<p>“What they are,” Ben said, and Phasma immediately snapped for Enric.</p>
<p>“We have a spot picked out, but we’ll just make room for both paintings, right?” She instructed Enric to film every moment of the unveiling and hanging. Rey felt awkward having the camera follow their every move, but with Ben’s help she managed to position Leia’s seascape while Ben took care of his.</p>
<p>Phasma’s elation on seeing the prized artwork was palpable. She moved into the camera’s shot and fawned over the detail. “I can’t wait to see the lost episode and hear from Leia herself what inspired this image,” she said, then turned to Rey. “Would you mind so much if we did your interview now? My initial thought had been to talk to people during the party, but as long as I have you here we might as well film it.”</p>
<p>Rey checked Ben for his reaction and, seeing him shrug as if to say it was her call, consented. Phasma had her assistant produce a form to sign, and within minutes Rey was telling the seascape story again. During the course of the interview, Phasma reached out for Rey’s hand with the ring, turning it toward the camera.</p>
<p>“This looks like the one Leia wore on the show.”</p>
<p>“It is the one.” The silver mount glistened in the light. Rey tugged back to release Phasma’s touch and offered no further explanation of how the ring ended up on her hand. She wasn’t certain if anybody besides Ben’s family knew of its significance.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Klaud,” Phasma told the cameraman after Rey answered the last question, and instructed him to film shots of the other paintings. Rey stepped back to find Ben but Phasma stilled her with a question. “So… you and Ben, huh?”</p>
<p>“Me and Ben.” Rey spoke with a firmness designed to drive the point home. Definitely not the time to play the simpering fool. “We clicked immediately.”</p>
<p>Phasma nodded. The woman stood tall, about as high as Ben did over her, and probably could pound her in a jealous rage. Yet, the actress seemed to take the news with some decorum. Rey couldn’t blame Phasma for having some attraction, given Ben’s personality and artistic skills. Ben had issues trusting the woman, though, and Rey needed to send a message.</p>
<p>Ben wasn’t part of the deal to get this documentary made.</p>
<p>Rey’s gaze panned the width of the room. Enric and Klaud were huddled together, no doubt planning their next move. Ben stood with Lando by one of Maz’s gift paintings, deep in conversation. Rey told Phasma, “Lando Calrissian seems nice.”</p>
<p>“He’s amazing.” Phasma’s eyes took on a dreamy haze as she spoke. “He’s been so cooperative, and patient with me. I may just give him a producer’s credit for all the help he’s given.”</p>
<p><em>Why not at least plant a seed? See where it goes?</em> “Ben was telling me about him on the drive up, his friendship with his parents. It’s fascinating how he’s never been married. You’d think somebody would have tried to snatch him up already.”</p>
<p>Phasma was looking in their direction now, nodding. “I know, right? He’s smart and funny. I could talk with him for hours, and not just about art.”</p>
<p>“I guess he’s still waiting for the one. No harm in that.” Rey rocked on her heels, winding down the encounter. Thankfully Enric arrived to draw Phasma away, and Rey joined Ben just as he and Lando were finishing up.</p>
<p>“I’m confident they have everything under control here,” he told her. “Ready to head out?”</p>
<p>“Right behind you.” Rey crooked her head toward Lando, indicating she wanted to say goodbye. When the two were alone, she thanked him for his generous use of the space to display Leia’s work.</p>
<p>“Anything to keep her legacy alive,” Lando said. “Ben’s parents were wonderful people, not just professionally. I like to think Leia would have championed something like this. She wanted people who aspired to paint to just do it.”</p>
<p>“I wish somebody like you had lived in my town when I first got interested.”</p>
<p>Lando nodded to where Ben was trying to retreat. People kept stopping him to talk. “Technically you do.”</p>
<p>“I know that now. I got lucky there.” Rey laughed. Then, “Phasma’s painting looks great, too.”</p>
<p>Lando agreed. “She’s come a long way. I haven’t had such an enthusiastic pupil in a long time.”</p>
<p>“This film work has to be running her ragged, though. She could stand to wind down a bit tonight.” Rey leaned in closer, turning her voice low. “She speaks so highly of you.”</p>
<p>Second seed planted. Lando raised an eyebrow and appeared to consider the suggestion. He thanked her just as Rey caught Ben’s eye. He was well at the “let’s get the fuck out” stage.</p>
<p>“Let me know how it goes,” she told Lando, then hurried toward the exit.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content notes: axe throwing, pegging - not at the same time</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What was all that hush-hush with Lando?”</p>
<p>Across the street from their room was a bar with an axe-throwing range. Rey had never tried it before and it looked like something to help relieve the stress of the combined drive and event prep. So Ben made a reservation and they whiled away the late hours trying to best each other at it in between bites of chicken wings.</p>
<p>“I was attempting to do you a favor by getting Phasma off your back,” she said as Ben hit the bullseye. Nice form. Rey rather enjoyed the flex of his arm muscles when he brought the axe high over his hand and down his back before the throw. Plus, he didn’t twinge afterward. Just to be safe she’d give him a rubdown later. Before the surprise, of course.</p>
<p>He walked up the aisle to retrieve his axe, looking smug at having passed her score. She still had a turn, though. “And launching her onto Lando’s then,” he said. “What did he ever do to you?”</p>
<p>“Be nice.” Rey centered herself, stood on the taped line, and made her throw. Just below the bullseye. She ignored Ben’s snickering. “Would you prefer to have Phasma pawing on you for the next several months?”</p>
<p>“Good point. Speaking of…” He pulled out his phone. “I may as well get that agreement finalized so she can film without any legal obstacles. He told Rey he was shooting off a text to Maz. Her response was a thumbs up emoji and a warning not to “overdo it.”</p>
<p>Ben looked at the axe in his hand, then at Rey and showed her the text. “Is she talking about axe throwing or…”</p>
<p>“Or…?” Ben prompted.</p>
<p>“Maybe make this last round,” she said, coy. “We don’t want to overdo it before we overdo it.”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“So, do I get to see what’s in that pink bag?”</p>
<p>Rey demurred, but only briefly. “I suppose. You’ve been a good boy today.” They were already in bed, down to their skivvies. Rey slipped out long enough to bring back the bag, which she let Ben open.</p>
<p>“What in the world…?” He held the curious silicone object, turning it upside down. “You had to get a purple one?”</p>
<p>“Either that or pink.” Rey had purchased the double dildo at the recommendation of the adult toy boutique’s clerk.</p>
<p>“Which end is up?”</p>
<p>She explained to Ben how the hook-shaped device worked. “The flared bulb goes inside me, and I clamp down on it to keep it in place.”</p>
<p>Ben’s expression changed, as though picturing it.</p>
<p>“I think you know where the other end goes,” Rey said. She’s opted for a slender penetrating shaft, about six inches long, with a narrower head designed to look circumcised. The idea wasn’t to tear Ben apart, but she was curious to know what he thought of his “gift.”</p>
<p>Considering Ben’s size when erect, she knew when he reciprocated it would be very different.</p>
<p>Ben peered into the bag and took out the harness and the small bottle of lube, which had been opened. “I take it you’ve already tried it on for size,” he said. “Show me.”</p>
<p>The harness resembled a strappy pair of crotchless panties which help secure the dildo in place. Rey would have preferred forgoing it, but broke down and bought it when she had difficulty holding the dildo upright on her own. One day she’d kegel hard enough to use it freely.</p>
<p>She kissed Ben for a few minutes before shedding her underwear to set it up. She was wet and felt okay inserting the bulb without lube. She lay back, thighs spread and the silicone shaft curved toward her abdomen. Ben sat back to admire it.</p>
<p>“It’s definitely a new look for you,” he said. “How does it feel?”</p>
<p>Rey fondled the tip. “Much like an egg bullet before you turn it on. They had a vibrating model but I didn’t know if I was ready for that.”</p>
<p>Ben pushed his boxer shorts over his hips and kicked them down and away. When he started stroking his own cock it looked like a competition. “I suppose some things you need to get into slowly. Not to brag, but maybe I’m a bit ahead of you in some respects.” To prove his point, he lowered his head between her legs and took the silicone prick into his mouth.</p>
<p><em>Holy shit.</em> All the way down without gagging, too. Ben curled his hand around the base, nudging against her clit while drawing his lips slowly up to lubricate the shaft.</p>
<p>“That was so hot,” Rey said.</p>
<p>Ben squeezed some lube into his hand and primed the dildo while kissing her. “Who gets to go first?”</p>
<p>“Me.”</p>
<p>He grinned and rolled onto his side, facing the window. They’d discussed it beforehand, and he preferred this position over others. This being her first time pegging, she added more lube to the dildo to be safe. Spooning against his back, she guided the prick slowly into him with some help, using his every reaction to steer the course.</p>
<p>The base of the shaft featured a jutted-out nub designed to rub her clit with every thrust, adding to her pleasure. Once in far enough, her upper leg draped over his, she began to rock. “How’s that?”</p>
<p>“That’s perfect.” Ben reached his hand back to touch her face. He was trying to bring her close enough to kiss, she realized, but she stayed put. To compensate, she stretched her arm over him to stroke his cock while she fucked his ass.</p>
<p>This...was different. She loved being close to Ben, loved how his moaning changed pitch with each movement. The clit nub didn’t hit its mark every time, but she figured that came with practice.</p>
<p>Overall, too soon to tell for her, but as long as Ben enjoyed it she’d explore how to better please him this way.</p>
<p>They went on slowly for a while, Rey unwilling to go too hard the first time. Despite his reactions, he pushed back against her and called for her to stop. “Am I hurting you?” she asked.</p>
<p>Ben shook his head. “That was great. I’m just done.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t come.”</p>
<p>“Not yet,” he said. He helped Rey ease out the dildo and turned over to remove the harness, then replaced the flared bulb with his cock. This, she liked.</p>
<p>Ben ground slowly into her, his body pressed close and his arms hooked under hers. “Thank you for doing that,” he whispered in her ear.</p>
<p>“Thank you for trusting me.”</p>
<p>“Always. I love you so much,” he said.</p>
<p>She got her declaration part of the way out when Ben covered her mouth in a kiss that lasted until they both climaxed.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Sometime in the early morning, Rey popped open her eyes. Consciousness had a full grip on her, and after several minutes of trying to drift back she gave up. Ben, on his side facing away from her, was gone to the world, and she slid out of bed slowly to keep him there.</p>
<p>She covered herself with a t-shirt and found a clean pair of underwear, then settled in at the table for two near the galley kitchen. The efficiency served them well as a place to crash, not so much for living without disturbing each other. Rey noodled around on her phone before growing bored, and when her gaze caught Ben’s sketch pad she flashed her phone light and opened it to see if he’d done anything new since they arrived.</p>
<p>There were a few sketches from days prior that she hadn’t seen. The first one was her face, her expression depicting her in the flush of ecstasy. The moment Ben wanted to capture as they made love, when they first said “I love you” to each other. Though he’d sketched her previously, he’d given more detail to this one, and Rey came away with the impression that he’d taken his time. Rather than get down the bones, he’d pulled what he saw of her from memory and put his own emotion into the piece.</p>
<p>The eyes, the way they stared forward, affected her. Had she ever looked this way at anyone else?</p>
<p>She turned the page, but instead of another sketch found a note to her.</p>
<p>
  <em>Rey,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist sneaking in here. Of course, you have my consent so don’t think I’m going to chide you. Not everybody in my life has been transparent with me, and though I may attempt to close myself off to certain people it’s not what I want with you. I want to be as open as this sketch book. If that means going deeper into my sordid past (ha) I’m willing to tell you everything if you should ever ask.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>That said, I need to make a confession… I may have fibbed a bit when I told you I didn’t think you bringing Mom’s painting to the appraisal would lead us here. I mean, I didn’t get it right away, but the moment you pulled me in for that kiss, something sparked in me. It took the numbness around my heart away, what I’d kept there for years after Mom died. I used to believe if I showed less emotion maybe people wouldn’t try to take advantage of me. What people will see when that TV show airs is the moment the ice melted and I came back to life.</em>
</p>
<p>Rey put her hand to her mouth. She leaned back for a look at the bed. Ben lay still.</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m not like Maz in that I can’t predict things. To be honest, I don’t talk about it with her much because I’m afraid she will say something I don’t want to hear. I do know that I love you, and whatever happens here, I won’t love another person like I do you.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Also, another confession: I purposely threw that last round of Ms. Pac Man because I wanted to give you the free lessons, hoping you’d stick around a while.</em>
</p>
<p>She nearly laughed out loud here. “Yeah, right,” she whispered. Like she’d ever accept that Ben let her win.</p>
<p>Underneath that line were the words: <em>Turn the page</em>, punctuated by an intricately drawn arrow. Her hand shook a bit when she pinched the corner of the paper to turn it, then more when she saw the drawing.</p>
<p>It depicted her and Ben in full-body profile, Ben kneeling before her and holding a ring. He’d written <em>Will you marry me?</em> underneath.</p>
<p>Rey dropped her phone. Fighting to get back her air, she pressed her shaking hand to her heart and inhaled. <em>Yes, yes, yes.</em> It thrilled her that Ben believed himself secure enough in every aspect to ask.</p>
<p>She walked quietly as possible back to bed and straddled him. It required rolling him onto his back, and she thought nothing of it when he opened his eyes at her first touch. Rey put her hands to his face and bent low to kiss him, easing her body down to line up with his.</p>
<p>Ben brought his arms around to caress her back, down to the low curve of her ass to rock her up and down his growing erection. “So is this a yes?” he asked when they tapered off.</p>
<p>“How did you know? Maz is rubbing off on you.”</p>
<p>He gave a short laugh. “No, I woke up a few minutes ago and saw you reading my note. Figured I’d give you a minute.”</p>
<p>“This is an emphatic yes, Ben.” Rey reached down to position herself better to ride his cock. She slid onto him with little effort and drew her knees forward for a comfortable position. They took it slow this time, knowing they had nowhere to be until much later in the day. Afterward, they lay together kissing and touching as sunlight gradually entered their space.</p>
<p>“I’ll have to get you a ring,” Ben said.</p>
<p>Rey flashed the turquoise oval. “I have a ring. It worked for your parents, why not us?”</p>
<p>“You don’t want one of your own?”</p>
<p>Rey held out her hand, admiring the twenty-five dollar gift shop stone. “This is my own,” she said. Like the seascape. Like the man. She had everything she wanted.</p>
<p>Ben nuzzled her neck. “Good enough. Would you mind a small wedding? I don’t have much family. Maz would host us in her backyard if we asked.”</p>
<p>It sounded wonderful, a short ceremony in nature. Rey was low on relatives herself, and would suffice with Rose as her witness. “It would save money on a fancy dress. Of course, you can always paint one on me.”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Ben trailed lights kisses across her throat. “That I can do.” Before his loving ramped up, however, his phone buzzed to announce an incoming text. Rey leaned over him to see it was from Maz.</p>
<p>“If that’s her congratulating us I’m going to scream,” she said.</p>
<p>Ben resumed his path. “Let’s not answer it then. I’ll give you a different reason to scream.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you have made it this far, I thank you. Hope you have enjoyed this story. I had a great time with this one. Please see end notes for similar works and upcoming.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Antique Appraisals</em> aired Ben and Rey’s segment last, meaning everybody watching the initial airing had to wait through a few dozen treasure discoveries that didn’t end with people kissing. It came as no surprise to Rey, neither did the enthusiastic reaction of the crowd when it became apparent the show’s producers used all the footage.</p>
<p>She held Ben’s hand through the entire show, smiling when people turned away from the screen to acknowledge them. Ben would raise his drink hand and take a sip every time; it turned into their own version of “Hi, Bob.”</p>
<p>Phasma’s cameraman roamed the crowd, taking in the celebratory atmosphere and the applause when the show ended. Her crew had begun taping since the doors opened hours ago. She’d end the week with enough film for a years-long series at this rate. How were she and her director going to whittle all this down to two hours?</p>
<p>When the credits on the show rolled and the guests dispersed toward the paintings, Rey realized they’d done well to attend. The event helped bring Ben out of his shell a bit, especially when people approached with questions about his mother and her technique. Some of the more affluent people here with art to appraise had asked for business cards. Ben was currently down to his last one.</p>
<p>An actor friend of Phasma’s came over to inquire about his services and Rey excused herself on the premise of refilling her drink. Instead, she gravitated to Ben’s uncle. Luke Skywalker had brought his wife and two college-aged children, people Ben met for the first time. He told her afterward he didn’t know he had cousins. Interesting that Maz never mentioned it.</p>
<p>Luke was standing next to one of Leia’s summer renderings, a forest with a wide nature path forged down the middle. “Thank you for coming tonight,” she said.</p>
<p>He smiled. It brought out the gray in his beard. “How long are you staying? The invitation to come up is still open.”</p>
<p>“We have to be out tomorrow, but thanks. I have work.”</p>
<p>He nodded, his face drooping a bit. “Next time, then,” he said, glancing in Ben’s direction. “I still can’t get over how much he’s changed. Pictures on the Internet don’t do it justice. It brings back a lot of memories.”</p>
<p>“Of your sister?”</p>
<p>“My father. Ben looks just like him.” Luke looked down a moment. “I wonder if Leia saw that, and if it affected her.”</p>
<p>Rey wasn’t attuned to the whole estrangement story, and while curious didn’t want to pry. She got the impression Luke had taken some advantage of the open bar, because he began to spill.</p>
<p>“Our father had hoped Leia would enter a more practical field,” he explained. “He encouraged her artistic talent, but opined that she ought to go into teaching, or advertising. Something with a steady paycheck. The fights they had… holy cow.”</p>
<p>Luke rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Rey could imagine the visions in his head. “It’s sort of why she married so young, and I didn’t really help. I told her Han was a bum and that she’d wind up divorced in a year. They showed me,” he said with a bitter laugh, “but she didn’t speak to me for a long time after that.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Rey said. How it must have to hurt to lose a sister, more than once.</p>
<p>“Ben doesn’t know it, but we did reconnect before she died. I guess she figured too much time had passed to bring me into Ben’s life, and he had enough going on before and after she died. That’s why I stayed away until now.” He turned toward the now darkened screen. “When I saw those videos -- actually my kids saw them first -- they wanted to know more about their aunt and cousin. I thought if there was the chance he might have a family of his own, we could start over.”</p>
<p>Rey thought of her own situation, having little to no family over the course of her life. Rose had been her surrogate sister, and then she met Ben...and would eventually inherit Maz and Chewie. The idea of additional people to see during holidays and summers appealed to her.</p>
<p>“I hope you can, too,” she said, and twisted her now engagement ring on her finger. “I’ll see that you get four invitations to the museum’s opening.”</p>
<p>“I’ll see that we come,” Luke said, and nodded to a signal from his wife, who had Ben by the arm. “Could you indulge us for a minute?” he asked. “There’s something we wanted to give you.”</p>
<p>Intriguing. Ben mentioned he’d worried Luke might have designs on Leia’s estate, but the man turned out to show no interest in money. Luke and his wife, both early retired, had done well for themselves. She followed Luke, and Ben and Mara, out of the annex to the Skywalkers’ SUV. Their children waited there, and one mashed a button on the key fob to release the rear door.</p>
<p>It opened slowly to reveal two small easels, side by side, on which rested two paintings -- near-exact renderings of the lost episode seascape. To say Ben was flabbergasted to see it was an understatement. “How…?”</p>
<p>“Jaina and Jacen painted these,” Luke explained. “The more they learned about your mother, they wanted to paint like her as well. We bought them kits, and the rest is history.”</p>
<p>Still speechless, Ben hugged each of his cousins. His voice came back. “But this particular scene...it’s not in the manual and the episode still hasn’t aired. How?”</p>
<p>Luke reached into a box next to the easels and pulled out a VHS tape, which he handed to Ben. “It was a peace offering, of sorts,” he said. “Years ago, I’d sent your mother a note when Mara learned she was pregnant. Just passing along family news. Leia sent me that, I suppose to let me know how you were doing.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry we stayed apart so long,” Ben said.</p>
<p>Luke nodded. “We can try to fix that. In the meantime, please accept these other peace offerings.”</p>
<p>Ben put his arm around Rey and smiled at his reconstructed family. “Of course. I know just where to put them.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <em>One Year Later</em>
</p>
<p>Rey’s final appointment for the day had to cancel, allowing her to leave early. She bade a quick goodbye to Amilyn on the way out and secured her RSVP for tomorrow night’s party.</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Amilyn held up her purse, indicating the ticket inside. “Any news yet?”</p>
<p>“You’ll be the third one to know,” Rey said, after her and Ben. Her drive took her not to their apartment at the beach, but to the museum located on the first floor of a building in the downtown area that also housed an art school unrelated to the foundation. Once Ben was able to reduce his debts, the school offered him the space at a reasonable rent.</p>
<p>The Leia Organa Museum opened four months ago to great attention and had fast become a popular attraction in town. After they married, it didn’t take much convincing for Ben to move operations to the beach. The most difficult part for Rey, of course, had been leaving Rose, yet by the time the Solos returned from their honeymoon Armie had moved into the bungalow.</p>
<p>It closed in an hour, and Rey expected Ben to still be busy. They continued to keep personal costs down so they were down to one car; she’d hang around until closing and drive them home. She expected he might want to stay late, too, given tomorrow’s big event, a preview of <em>Brushstrokes</em>, the final title of Phasma’s documentary, hosted by the museum.</p>
<p>Rey greeted every docent she passed on the way to Ben’s office. He was sitting alone, finishing up a call, and smiled on seeing her. “She just walked in,” he was saying. “Yeah, I’ll tell her. Love you, too.”</p>
<p>“What does Maz want to tell me?” The old woman hadn’t rubbed off on her. Rey couldn’t imagine Ben talking that way to anybody else.</p>
<p>“Not to worry, that everything will be fine.” Ben folded his hands on his desk. “Apply that any way you wish.”</p>
<p>“Maybe it has to do with this voicemail from the bank,” Rey said, calling up the phone app.</p>
<p>“You haven’t checked it yet?”</p>
<p>Rey bit her lip, feeling nervous. “I wanted you here for it, in case it’s bad news.”</p>
<p>Ben gestured to her, and she came around to sit on his lap. “Whatever it says, it’ll be okay,” he told her. “We got this far, didn’t we?”</p>
<p>He made a good point with her. Museum membership was growing. His appraisal work had picked up thanks to the documentary’s buzz, and they were doing well on a personal front. Luke’s family, while unable to come tomorrow, had invited them up for Christmas. Phasma and Lando, long an item, were already in town and expecting them for a late dinner out.</p>
<p>Rey kissed him and leaned on his shoulder. Counting to three, she pressed play and they listened. After a few seconds of static, their contact at the bank happily informed them that Rey’s business loan was approved. The kisses turned more enthusiastic after that. Solo Massage Studio was one step closer to becoming reality.</p>
<p>“How should we celebrate?” she asked her husband.</p>
<p>Ben scraped his nose along her cheek. “How about we lock the door?”</p>
<p>“Not after what happened last time.” She laughed as she wriggled free of him, then tugged him to stand. “Let one of the docents close tonight and let’s go home. We have a few hours before we have to meet Phas and Lando.”</p>
<p>The implication of sex to follow was enough to motivate Ben. On the way out, they passed his favorite exhibit in the museum. It had become a ritual of sorts to pause in front of it, and Rey obliged him every time.</p>
<p>The display featured all four versions of the violet seascape: his, Leia’s and his cousins’. Titled “A Family Affair,” the display offered visitors the opportunity to discern who created which painting. The glass partition protecting the artwork had frosted divots that blocked the signatures, and visitors entered their guesses in a guestbook on a nearby pedestal.</p>
<p>Next to the paintings, an inlaid monitor ran the lost episode on an endless loop. Currently it played Leia’s introduction to the episode. Rey let her gaze drift to a small notation underneath the plaque introducing the display.</p>
<p>
  <em>Paintings on permanent loan from the collection of Ben Solo and Rey Skyler-Solo.</em>
</p>
<p>“I wish she was here to see this,” Ben said.</p>
<p>Rey locked her fingers with his. “She is here, Ben. She always will be.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you enjoyed this, please check out these selected contemporary AU Reylos by me - all rated E except where noted:</p>
<p><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28745784">Entwined</a> (Winemaker Ben/Innkeeper Rey)<br/><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890961">In Focus</a> (Son of Pres. Candidate Ben/Photographer Rey)<br/>IN PROGRESS: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609379">Time Has Come Today</a> (Activist Ben/Museum Curator Rey - also time travel)<br/>IN PROGRESS: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29953407/chapters/73732860">One Skis, the Other Doesn't</a> (inspired by the AD/Gaga sweater photo, crossover with Ally Maine from "A Star is Born") - Rated M</p>
<p>I'm also looking for a beta reader. Feel free to hit me up on Twitter at <a href="https://twitter.com/maude_zbornak">@maude_zbornak</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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